


this is me trying

by thephanlock



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Ghost Hunters, Kinda, London, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overused trope, Pining, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, the most cliche thing you’ll ever read, there's one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25560514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephanlock/pseuds/thephanlock
Summary: That feeling rushed back into his chest. It felt like they were on the edge of a precipice with no harness and no safety net. It felt like Shane would have to jump sooner or later, whether he liked it or not. He could almost feel a looming presence, creeping up behind him, ready to push him if he refused to take the leap.Everyday, it felt like they were edging closer to something big.Shane wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 103
Kudos: 211





	1. at least i'm trying

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies! Just wanted to say that this is purely a work of fiction and I mean no disrespect to the Unsolved boys. I respect both their personal lives and relationships. <33

Shane watches the muscles in Ryan’s arm tense from the weight of the suitcase, as he pulls it off of the conveyor belt. It must be past midnight, at least. He could feel his eyelids getting heavier with every second that passed and he doesn’t have it in him to check the time on his phone.

“Equipment?” He says, more to fill the silence than anything. Ryan glances up at him, after placing the black suitcase on the floor between them. Limbs sore and exhausted, Shane wasn’t sure quite how Ryan was lifting these suitcases. They’d had to redistribute the equipment between the suitcases so they wouldn’t exceed the baggage limit, they were that heavy.

“Next time, we pack lighter.” He replies, a little breathless from the effort but there’s a smile on his lips, a tinge of amusement to his voice. It’s familiar. Shane’s lips mirror the smile, watching Ryan for a few seconds longer than necessary, before he forces himself to look back to the carousel. He watches the unclaimed suitcases travel along the belt, the moment gone.

Most days, Shane’s more careful. He counts the milliseconds, before he should look away. He pushes the thoughts away, before hope settles in. He ignores the flipping feeling in his stomach, putting it down to hunger or anxiety. He steps to the side a little more than necessary, so that their hands don’t brush when they walk.

But that night, he’s tired and careless. But thankfully, Ryan doesn’t notice. 

Shane trains his eyes on one particular suitcase, decorated with pink and white flowers and a label saying ‘Don’t touch!’. He doesn’t feel the eyes watching him, doesn’t notice the small smile on his friend’s lips as he looks away.

“That one ours?” Ryan says. Sometimes, there’s so many suitcases from their crew that they lose track, but Shane spots the black and white patch on the side sewn onto the side, the Watcher logo. He nods and Ryan goes to pick it up.

Shane takes a deep breath. It never used to be like this, it never used to be this _bad._

Back when they were still at Buzzfeed, it was easier to ignore. They’d spend every day at neighbouring desks, chatting back and forth and working away on whatever project they were finishing that week. It was always so easy for Shane to talk to Ryan, to banter back and forth until the work day was over.

Shane had lost count of the amount of times they’d stayed late, the sun setting through the big windows at the front of the office, overlooking LA. He’d lost count of the bowls of popcorn shared, frantically editing away and hoping to get home before ten. He’d lost count of the kernels thrown, aiming at each other’s mouths. Shane was never as good at catching them as Ryan, who never missed. And boy, did Ryan make sure he never forgot. 

They’d always eat lunch apart though; Ryan with his other work friends, Shane with his girlfriend Sara. That was, of course, until they broke up, four months ago. That’s when everything shifted and these _feelings_ forced their way to the front of Shane’s brain, loud and refusing to be ignored. Maybe it was because he was single now and everything seemed more possible, maybe it was because they were spending so much more time together since leaving Buzzfeed and starting Watcher. 

Shane didn’t know which. But he was over it already.

“Got ‘em!” Ryan calls, wheeling two suitcases towards him. Shane rushes forward to take one from him. “Thanks, big guy.” 

That feeling rushed back into his chest. It felt like they were on the edge of a precipice with no harness and no safety net. It felt like Shane would have to jump sooner or later, whether he liked it or not. He could almost feel a looming presence, creeping up behind him, ready to push him if he refused to take the leap.

Everyday, it felt like they were edging closer to _something_ big _._

Shane wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what.

“Devon said the Uber should be waiting outside, they’ve just checked into the hotel.” Ryan says, his eyes skimming the texts on his phone, as Shane wheels two suitcases, one in each hand. 

Sure enough, when they step out of the terminal, a car that matches Devon’s description waits for them. Shane can barely register the cold London air racing across his cheeks, the wind heavy and the sky dark, too cloudy to see the stars above, before they rush into the Uber. They both sit in the backseat, as the driver lifts their suitcases into the boot.

“So, you nervous?” Shane asks. Despite years of “ghost hunting”, two things were certain; Shane still refused to call it that and Ryan still got antsy before most locations. 

“A little,” Ryan says, pulling on the strings of his hoodie until they’re roughly the same length. “There’s so many stories about this place, Shane.”

“Yeah, that wind sure is _spooky._ ” Shane teases, adding a few extra oo’s for effect. It earns him a playful punch to the arm.

“I’m serious,” Ryan says, but the slight lift at the corner of his mouth says otherwise. “There’s been regular ghost sightings here for at least fifty years. That’s just what they’ve kept records of.”

“Brings in the tourists, I guess.” Shane responds, as the Uber driver flicks on the indicator and takes the link road off of the motorway. “And the ghoul boys, baby!” Shane says, a little louder than he meant to.

At that, Ryan lets out a surprised chuckle, all the nerves and tension leaving his shoulders. He looks across at Shane, a light smile playing on his lips. Sometimes, Shane wonders what would’ve happened if he’d said no when Ryan asked him to join Unsolved. Would they still be friends, even now? Watcher probably wouldn’t have happened, that was for sure.

“Right boys, this is it on the left.” The Uber driver says, as he pulls the car onto the curb and parks. “Have a good one.” They both utter thanks and jump out of the car onto the pavement, while the driver places their suitcases beside a lamp post. Moments later, the car is screeching away, rushing towards the next passenger.

Through the revolving door, Shane could see Devon stood, waiting to hand them their hotel card. Wheeling a suitcase on each side of him, he heads inside, Ryan on his heels, following closely behind.

“Don’t get mad.” She says, shooting them both an apologetic look and holding up her hands like she’s surrendering, and immediately alarm bells ring in Shane’s head. “We tried to get them to change it but they’re fully booked, something about a huge soccer league and the fans taking up all the rooms.”

“What is it?” Ryan sighs, the smile gone from his face and the exhaustion obvious in his features. Shane’s pretty sure he knows what she’s about to say before the explanation even leaves her lips. 

But she doesn’t explain, leaving the question to hang in the air.

“Just,” She pauses, sighing and pushing her hair over her shoulder. The keycard sits between two of her fingers, as she reaches her hand towards Ryan. He takes the card. “Just, go look. Room 405.”

And with that, she turns on her heel and walks towards the door with the word ‘stairs’ on it. Shane sneaks a glance at Ryan, surprised to find him already looking at him. Ryan shrugs and heads towards the elevator. He presses the button and a ring around it lights up a gold colour.

“What was that about?” Ryan says, as they watch the floor numbers descend, from ten to eight to five to three. 

“No idea.” Shane lies, trying to play it off, nonchalant whilst his insides churn. Then, he reminds himself to get a grip. He's a _grown man,_ he can suck it up and deal with this without freaking out. 

He isn’t surprised when they get to their room and only one bed stands before them.


	2. i’ve been having a hard time adjusting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all chapter titles are from folklore by taylor swift!

There’s a beat of silence, as they both just stare at the room before them, unsure of what to say. 

“Oh,” Ryan whispers, the word catching on the end of his exhale. Shane could spend the rest of the night reading into all the possible meanings behind that one ‘oh’. He doesn’t quite know how to reply but luckily, he doesn’t have to. “I’m gonna unpack in the morning, I’m exhausted, bud.”

And that’s it. Just like that, they’re onto the next thing.

Shane’s thankful for the distraction.

Ryan opens one of the suitcases and starts rummaging through, searching for his pyjamas, so Shane does the same. It feels a little like he’s on autopilot. 

It’s  _ embarrassing _ . He’s shared beds with Ryan before. Back when Unsolved had a much smaller budget, they’d share a bed on every trip without a second thought. Of course, that was when Shane was with Sara, before he allowed himself to fully feel  _ this _ \- whatever this was.

He feels it wash over him and it’s a little overwhelming, like a wave that’s more powerful than he thought crashing into his legs, almost knocking him over. 

Ryan clears his throat.

“I’m gonna change, I’ll be right back.” Ryan says, barely above a whisper. Pyjamas in one hand, he disappears into the bathroom and Shane lets out a breath. He had to get this under control and quick. 

Absentmindedly, he strips and changes into his pyjamas. He’s just pulling his shirt over his head, when the bathroom door opens and Ryan steps out. 

“Like the old days, huh?” He jokes and Shane feels the laugh huff out of him, feels his body relax. Ryan flashes him a smile and heads to the right side of the bed, his shirt already donning a tiny toothpaste stain.

“Just after Brent’s mysterious disappearance, may he rest in peace.” Shane says, pulling an extra pillow from inside the closet. As he’s throwing back the duvet, Ryan chuckles. Shane grabs his toothbrush and goes to the bathroom.

“When should I set the alarm for?” He hears Ryan say from the bed, his voice still hushed. Peeking around the door, Shane sees him curling into bed and plugging his charger into the socket beside him. When he answers, the words are muffled and indiscernible through the toothpaste. “What?” The corners of Ryan’s mouth pull up, as Shane repeats what he said, to no avail. 

It’s after the second ‘what’ that Shane realises just what Ryan’s doing and throws the toothpaste bottle at him.

“Hey!” And Shane doesn’t stop smiling until he gets into bed and the realisation of the predicament he’s in hits him again. “I set it for eight, so we can still catch breakfast.” Ryan says, interrupting Shane’s spiralling thoughts.

“Thanks.” Shane says, scooching down the mattress until his head reached the pillows, two thin ones stacked just high enough to raise his head. 

Then, it’s silent and it’s as though Shane’s breathing is loud enough to wake the entire floor.

It takes him so long to fall asleep that he sees the sun rising, just before he drifts off. 

* * *

Shane wakes with a start, the alarm blaring loud enough that he’s sure the whole street could hear it. Peeking one eye open, he notices Ryan’s eyes scrunching closed, as he lies on his side, facing him. With a groan, Ryan rolls over and hits snooze. 

He tries his hardest not to imagine what it would be like to wake up next to Ryan every morning.

Now fully awake, Shane assesses the damage. Luckily, he’d managed to keep to his side of the bed and so had Ryan - for the most part. Except for one hand, reaching out towards Shane in his sleep.

“ _ Ryyyan,”  _ He says, putting on his best ghost voice to coax him awake. He doesn’t see it but Ryan fights off a smile. “Come on, bud. We’re gonna miss breakfast.” Gently, Shane pokes his back with his index finger. With a sigh, Ryan rolls back over to face Shane.

Too close.  _ Too close. _

Close enough that Shane can feel Ryan’s breath on his cheeks, that he could count every individual eyelash that laced Ryan’s eyes if he tried.

When Ryan’s eyes meet his, he suddenly feels pulled apart, ripped open with all his secrets and insides laid out for just Ryan to see. He feels vulnerable, like even the slightest move could pop this little bubble of a moment they’ve found themselves in.

After some time passes, it feels like it could be anything between two seconds and two weeks, Ryan lets out a surprised huff.

“Breakfast?” He says, his voice nothing more than a whisper. 

“About time.” Shane jokes and they both roll over to start their day. There’s a strange feeling in his chest, somewhere between giddiness and apprehension, as he hopes that Ryan doesn’t know everything he’s been trying so hard to hide.


	3. they told me all of my cages were mental

The drive to the location is quiet. With his hands around the steering wheel, Shane coaxes the car to the left and pulls to a stop at the red light, just behind the car that TJ and the rest of the crew rented.

As usual, he has no idea where they’re heading. But he’s kind of used to the uncertainty of Unsolved shoots, having nothing more than a postcode or an address to go off of is normal now. He just trusts Ryan chose a good location, somewhere with a fast food drive-thru nearby, so that nobody in the crew died of hunger by the end of the shoot.

Around them, the streets are busy with people waiting at the edge of every traffic light, for the chance to walk across the road safely. Cars line up behind each light, too many to count, going as far back as Shane can see. There’s a quiet hum to the streets, the chatter of passersby blending with the hum of car engines and the occasional horn, muffled by the closed car window.

Beside him, Ryan sits in the passenger seat, staring idly out of the window. To anyone else, he would look calm, bored even. But Shane can almost feel the anxiety radiating off of him, building up more and more as they edge closer to their destination.

He knows better than to ask questions, he knows better than to draw attention to it.

“So, what do you wanna see in London?” Shane asks, knowing full well they probably won’t have time for much sightseeing. Maybe a day, if that.

But the question pulls Ryan out of his own head, and that’s all Shane wanted.

The conversation is light and the car is far less quiet for the rest of the ride.

* * *

When they arrive, the manager offers to give them a tour, which they politely decline. Over the years, they’ve found it more natural and - for lack of a better word - spooky, if they explore the building themselves. It makes the reactions much more genuine, too.

“Okay, you know the drill, everyone let’s set up for the intros and case explanation.” TJ calls out, as the crew scurry, rushing around and trying to set everything up quickly. From the back of the room, Ryan pulls two chairs, placing one in front of Shane. 

“You ready to see some ghouls, Ry?” Shane taunts, pulling his microphone up through his shirt and clipping it to his collar. “Got the spirit box ready for all the wind you’re gonna capture?”

“Shut up, Shane.” Ryan says but there’s a smile forcing its way onto his lips against his will, as he attaches his microphone to his shirt. 

If he’s being honest with himself, Shane doesn’t even really  _ care  _ about the spirit box or about the possibility of the existence of ghosts. 

But then he saw the way Ryan’s eyes light up as they unpick a cold case, the way he would spend hours slouching over the computer, pouring through pages and pages of details and photographs. 

He saw the way Ryan fought his fears on every supernatural shoot, the exhilaration in his eyes whenever a voice spoke through the spirit box’s incessant humming or there was a faint whisper in the distance.

He saw Ryan get giddy whenever they were editing, noticing something in the tape recordings that he didn’t notice on location. He noticed the way his veins seemed to be buzzing underneath his skin, how he had to make an extra effort to stand still because he was so excited.

And Shane decided he could learn to love the paranormal, as long as he could be next to Ryan like this. Whether it was real or not. 

(And Shane certainly believed the latter).

* * *

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate the famous Tower of London, as part of our ongoing investigation into the question, ‘Are ghosts real?’” Ryan reels off the intro and Shane does his usual shake of the head to the camera. It’s second nature at this point, neither of them have to think about it. 

“From the years 1100 to 1952, the Tower of London was used as a prison for people disliked by the Royal Family. People such as Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard, Thomas More and Lady Jane Grey are just some of those that were executed here.” Ryan says and pauses, looking over at Shane, waiting for a snarky response. 

“Some big names there, Ry. Some real history A-listers.” Immediately, Shane knows this is going to be one of his favourite locations. It’s so rich with history that he doesn’t care how the rest of the shoot goes, he just knows he’s going to love it. He has no idea how Buzzfeed managed to swing this one, it must have cost the company a fortune so that they could wander around here at night and mess about.

“Some have even spotted Anne Boleyn herself walking around the grounds, carrying her own head.” Ryan replies, the Unsolved narrator voice still lingering in his tone.

“Baloney.” Shane says and Ryan’s already trying to suppress a laugh. “Let me guess, was she wearing a white dress and waiting at the end of hallways?” At that, Ryan cracks up. He briefly glances at his notes.

“Actually, yes.”

“ _Baloney_. Why would she carry her own head around, Ryan?” Shane says, he’s going off on a tangent now and he knows it. But Ryan doesn’t seem to mind.

“I don’t know? Maybe she’s attached to it?” Ryan replies, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his smile reaches his eyes.

“She’s clearly not attached to it, Ryan, she was  _ beheaded _ .” Again, Ryan loses it, laughing loudly enough that the noise reverberates off the walls. 

And Shane can’t stop looking at him. He knows the camera will catch it. He knows he’ll have to spend extra time sorting through the footage to make sure he hasn’t given himself away. He knows he’ll still slip up and leave some longing looks in, and that the viewers will pick up on it. But he can’t find it in himself to care right now.

He can’t help but join in. Laughing not at his own joke, but more at Ryan’s reaction. Pulling his gaze away, Shane looks down, still laughing quietly to himself.

It takes a minute or two for them to regain composure and for Ryan to be calm enough to continue with the backstory.

* * *

The rest of the shoot is pretty average. A few clipped murmurs of ‘Henry’, ‘dead’ and ‘head’ slip through the spirit box, so Ryan’s excited again.

“Can you tell us your name?” Ryan says, serious voice on as he speaks to a nearly empty room. The hiss of the spirit box seems to get louder, more insistent. “What’s your name?”

Shane’s just about to say maybe they should call it and head into the next room, when the fuzz is interrupted.

“ _ Anne,”  _ The spirit box says, just loud enough to be heard. Straight away, Ryan’s gaze shoots to Shane, eyes wide, but only a few seconds pass before the spirit box pipes up again. “ _ Boleyn.” _

“That was two syllables,” Ryan whispers, his voice hushed and shaky. Shane can practically see the panic and excitement lacing together inside of him, as though he’s ready to burst. “ _ Shane.” _

“Who killed you, Anne?” Shane says, mostly joking. 

“ _ Shane _ , don’t ask her that!” Ryan says, incredulous. He knows the answer anyway.

But the answer doesn’t come. The spirit box continues to buzz.

“Not too chatty now, huh--”

A door in the distance slams shut. The sound is so loud that Shane wouldn’t be surprised if the door had snapped off its hinges.

Ryan jumps a mile. One second his hand is by his side, the next he’s holding on to Shane’s forearm, reaching out in the dark. 

Shane tells himself it wasn’t intentional and tries not to read too far into it.

“There’s no one else here tonight, right? Teej?” Ryan says, eyes even wider than before as his chest rises and falls faster than it should. Behind the camera, TJ shakes his head. 

There’s a beat of silence, with nothing but the spirit box humming to fill the void. 

Shane reaches across and turns it off.

“Ryan, it’s fine. Probably just the wind.” Shane says, his voice softer now, as though they’re the only two in the room. But he can’t stop thinking about Ryan’s hand holding on to his arm. “Just breathe.”

“I’m okay, just scared me.” Ryan replies, as his breathing evens out, looking Shane in the eyes and smiling a little. Without even realising, Shane smiles back. There’s a moment of stillness, before he realises he’s still gripping onto Shane’s arm and lets go quickly.

Shane’s arm feels like it’s vibrating, somewhere between tingling and burning, outlining the place where each of Ryan’s fingers were.

“You really had to get her mad?” Ryan says but this time there’s a lightness to it, like he’s teasing again.

“Yeah, baby! You’re not getting rid of us that easy, Annie!” Shane shouts out and Ryan punches him on the arm, telling him to stop.

“Okay guys, let’s wrap and set up room two.” TJ calls and the room is suddenly a hub of movement again. Ryan slaps Shane’s back like he’s one of his  _ bros _ , and follows the crew out of the room.

Shane still feels the warmth under his skin, even after TJ calls action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i doubt you can even get night tours of the tower of london but let's pretend it's *buzzfeed magic*


	4. could've followed my fears all the way down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love this fic has been getting!! It means the world to me that something I write just for fun is enjoyed by other people too. So, thank you so much. <3 
> 
> I hope to keep updating every 2/3 days, if not more. <3

They wrap at around four or five in the morning, as the sun peeks out from behind the buildings. Shane already knows he probably won’t be up in time for the hotel breakfast.

“I think we got some really good footage,” Ryan says, rambling excitedly about different voice recordings and shadows in the background. They’re driving back to the hotel, Shane behind the wheel again. “The viewers are gonna eat that spirit box bit up.”

“They  _ do _ love seeing you freak out,” Shane admits, glancing at Ryan for a split second longer than would be considered safe, since his eyes are supposed to be on the wheel. He hears Ryan huff out a laugh.

“Shut up, Shane.” He says, but there’s no heat behind it and Shane can hear the smile he’s wearing as he says it. “Teej was saying that our location tomorrow has asked if they can push it back a few hours, something about ghost tours and double booking. So, we have most of the day to walk around London.” Ryan says, his grin getting wider. 

They’ve both always loved London, ever since the first Unsolved location here. Something about it feels frozen in time, like they’re stepping out of reality and into the Victorian era. Shane feels as though he could do anything here and it wouldn’t happen in real life, that it wouldn’t exist by the time they were back in Los Angeles. It’s like a bubble, completely separate from the civilisation they were used to.

“Great! Whatcha thinking?” Shane shoots back, matching Ryan’s enthusiasm. There’s a pause, as if Ryan hasn’t even thought about it properly. Clearly, he was reassessing his choices now that the situation was more than hypothetical.

“I’m thinking Camden, if you’re up for it? We can take the tube?” He says, looking at Shane hopefully, as if Shane has ever been able to say no to him.

“Spoken like a true Londoner,” Shane jokes, flashing him a smile. “We can take the  _ tube _ , maybe get a  _ cheeky Nandos _ with the  _ lads, innit bruv. _ ” He stretches out his words, putting on his worst cockney accent.

"Please never do that again,” Ryan deadpans, but Shane can hear him suppressing a chuckle. A smile creeps its way onto Shane’s lips and he looks straight ahead, pretending to pay really close attention to the registration plate of the car in front of them.

“But yeah, that sounds good.” Shane says, realising he never really answered Ryan’s question. Immediately, Ryan mutters something like ‘awesome’ and is tapping away on his phone, probably searching for tube routes and food spots that Steven says they absolutely  _ have  _ to try.

* * *

By the time they get back to the hotel, the sun is high in the sky and the lobby is full of people in business suits, rushing around. Shane nearly gets knocked over by a woman power walking in a grey suit and heels, as she balances a phone in one hand and a croissant in the other. 

It feels an awful lot like coming in after a drunken night out, as the rest of the world moves on around them. Yet, Shane feels like his limbs are dragging across the floor from how exhausted he is and one look at the way Ryan’s whole body is sagging and he knows Ryan’s just as tired.

Shane barely remembers getting to the hotel room, occurring to him only then that maybe he shouldn’t have been driving since he was that tired. But he hadn’t felt this bad at Tower of London, riding high on the adrenaline and Ryan’s laughter at any stupid joke he cracked. He certainly hadn’t felt this bad when they were in the car, talking about the shoot as Shane tried his hardest to keep his eyes on the road, when Ryan’s smile was too distracting.

But now, standing outside the door of their hotel room, he feels the weight of a night without sleep, as Ryan searches through his pockets for the keycard. Shane leans his head against the wall and waits for the buzz to let him know the keycard worked.

He hates being this tired around anyone, let alone Ryan. It’s the level of tired that makes you delirious, the kind that takes away your filter and lets all of your thoughts fall out of your mouth, even if you don’t want them to. He thinks he would rather be drunk, at least then his brain would be partially awake and functioning.

When they get into the hotel room, it’s too easy to slip into a routine, one of them changing in the bathroom, brushing their teeth and climbing into bed beside each other. It’s so easy that Shane’s mind starts to wander but he stops himself, knowing that train of thought is nothing but painful.

“What time do we need to be at the location tomorrow?” Shane says, lying on his side and facing Ryan. He tries to ignore the way his pulse quickens when Ryan’s eyes meet his, reminds himself he’s not in high school.

“Midnight,” Ryan says and his voice has dropped to a hush, trailing off at the end. He just looks into Shane’s eyes for a moment and Shane tries to clamp down on the feeling of hope, trying to escape from the hole he’d pushed it down into, clawing its way up to the forefront of his thoughts.

“Good,” Shane whispers, though he’s not quite sure what he’s replying to. He’s not fully focused on the conversation anymore and it doesn’t look like Ryan is either, but Shane tells himself it’s all in his imagination. 

A small smile appears on Ryan’s lips, as he looks down, breaking the trance they’d both been placed under. He rolls over, placing his phone on the bedside table and Shane finally breathes, thinking it’s over.

Then, Ryan rolls back over and once again, breathing is a distant memory.

“Goodnight, Ry.” He says, trying to suppress the smile that’s threatening to show. 

“Night, big guy.” Ryan replies, smiling back at him, before he closes his eyes. And the way the light peeking through their drawn curtains is casting shadows on Ryan's face in the darkness is the reason it’s impossible for Shane to look away. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Reluctantly, Shane closes his eyes and hopes he can fall asleep before Ryan hears how loud his heart is beating in the quiet.


	5. look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, chapter title from folklore by Taylor Swift!

It feels like barely two seconds pass before Shane wakes up, with a pressure on his chest and the remnants of sleep weighing heavy on his eyelids. For a few seconds, he debates just not opening his eyes and falling back to sleep, wasting away the day off in bed, instead of wandering around Camden market.

Reluctantly, Shane forces his eyes open, noticing the light peeking in through the curtains is brighter than it was when they went to sleep.

The second thing he notices is Ryan, tucked under his arm with his head on Shane’s chest, fast asleep.

Shane’s breath catches in his throat.

Immediately, his brain starts going a mile a minute. What does he do? Whatever he chooses, there’s a downside. He could try and roll Ryan over, but he’d probably wake him up, if he could even roll out from under him in the first place. He could pretend to be asleep and wait for Ryan’s reaction, but that would mean Ryan would find out. He could--

“Shane?” Ryan says, his voice rough and sleepy. Shane wasn’t paying close enough attention, he hadn’t noticed that Ryan was even awake. But Ryan had felt Shane’s whole body tense up, as he circled through his thoughts, worrying himself sick. 

Silence falls upon the room, as neither of them really know what to say. 

But neither of them make any effort to move.

“You okay?” Ryan asks, still not sure what the appropriate thing to say is when you wake up when you wake up, not only in the same bed as your best friend, but cuddling them. It strikes Shane as an odd thing to ask, as if he’d ever be anything less than okay with this. 

But then Ryan’s looking up at him and oh no, that’s  _ worse.  _ Shane thinks this is tiptoeing into dangerous territory. That if he let himself, he could get used to this. To Ryan cuddled up to his chest, his voice sending vibrations through Shane’s chest as he spoke. He thinks he could easily get used to seeing Ryan’s sleep-ruffled hair and soft smile first thing in the morning.

“Yeah, of course.” Shane says, aiming for casual and vastly overshooting it. He clenches his eyes shut, wants to put his face in his hands and hope that this was all a dream. But when he opens his eyes, Ryan’s still there, a puzzled but slightly amused look on his face, like he can’t quite get a read on him, like Shane’s another unsolved mystery he’s still trying to solve but he’s having a great time doing so. 

“I’m gonna get a shower,” Ryan says and Shane nods down at him and that should be it. But there’s another pause, before Shane uncurls his arm from around Ryan and Ryan rolls to the other side of the bed, cold and unused, untangling their limbs.

Shane sits on the side of the bed. As soon as the bathroom door closes behind Ryan, he rubs his hands up and down his face. That could have been  _ bad _ . That could’ve ruined everything, could’ve revealed everything Shane had been trying to hide, could’ve made Ryan think he was a creep, could’ve made Unsolved so awkward that they had to cancel it.

So, why didn’t it?

No matter how hard he thought about it, Shane couldn’t find an answer.

“All yours,” Ryan says, stepping out of the bathroom and rubbing his wet hair with a towel, another wrapped around his waist. 

That’s it. Ryan Bergara is going to be the death of him.

“Thanks,” He says, scooching past him and trying his hardest not to stare. He turns the shower on and hopes the noise of the jets is loud enough to shut his brain up.

* * *

Turns out, they must’ve only slept in until about one o’clock, so they still had plenty of time to get on the tube and explore Camden. 

“First stop, food. I think my stomach hates me.” Shane says, as they step out of Camden Town station onto the corner of a busy street. There’s so much to look at that Shane feels his head turning back and forth, like he’s a spectator at a tennis game.

“Same here, I think my stomach’s started eating  _ me _ .” Ryan says. Shane lets out a little laugh at the thought. Ryan pushes his train ticket into the pocket of his jeans and looks both ways. He’d looked through directions and street view on Google Maps, but now they were here, it’s a whole different story. “I think it’s that way.” Ryan says, pointing right.

“Okay, buddy. I’m trusting you on this one because I have no idea.” Shane replies, following Ryan and hurrying a little to walk beside him. 

Around them, Camden is a hub of activity. There are stands and stalls and food trucks as far as the eye can see, and that’s before they even reached Camden market itself. Each stall has its own music blasting and as they walk past, they’d catch snippets of certain songs, before the next set of speakers overpowered the last. The same was true with the smells of all the different foods. It was like they were fighting for attention until neither of them could distinguish what was what, the countless cuisines lumping together into one.

There was a certain buzz to the air, as though people were in no rush but also too excited to stand still. Shane had never been to a street party but as he takes in the organised chaos around him, he imagines this is what it would be like. 

There’s a family sitting on the curb, eating rice bowls and talking enthusiastically in a language Shane doesn’t understand. And then, there’s a group of men, who look like they’re in their early twenties, bargaining with a stall owner over a jacket. Then they’re passed by a horse-drawn carriage with a couple riding in the back, going no more than 5mph, as they hold hands and point out different shops.

Everything is somewhat normal, until he sees the square.

“Is that--?” Ryan says, and he knows Ryan’s seen it too. 

In the middle of the square, there’s a circle of people, clapping and bopping along to the music playing from one of the food trucks. And in the centre, there’s two men, dressed as the Mad Hatter and Batman, dancing. 

“Oh my  _ God. _ ” Ryan gasps, his tone somewhere between amusement and excitement. Once the initial shock wears off, Shane finally looks around the square and notices  _ hundreds _ of food trucks, all packed together with a path weaving around each one. 

“We have to go down there.” Shane says, smiling widely. When he looks at Ryan, he sees the same grin mirrored on his face. Without another word, they both rush towards the crowd, all thoughts of food abandoned. 

“I don’t understand, how would the Mad Hatter and Batman even meet?” Ryan jokes, as they zigzag their way through the swarm of people queuing for food.

“DC and Alice in Wonderland are in the same universe, duh. Alice is actually Harley Quinn before she met the Joker.” Shane shoots back, glancing down at Ryan and trying not to lose him in the crowd. 

“Can you  _ imagine  _ the crossover? Mad Hatter versus the Joker?” Ryan says, as they reach a spot where they can both see the dance battle happening in the centre. 

“Think you’ve got yourself a box office hit there, Ry.” Ryan chuckles, as Batman busts out the robot. Both of them let out a groan. “It’s over!”

“You can’t win a dance battle with the  _ robot! _ ” Shane exclaims, only just audible over the shouting of the crowd, as they both try to suppress their laughter.

The Mad Hatter starts popping and locking, before contorting his body, twisting his shoulders in directions they shouldn’t bend. He starts to walk over to Batman but stops short, leaving a suspiciously large distance between them. 

Suspense hangs in the air, as the volume of the crowd is lowered to a whisper, everyone waits in anticipation to see what the Mad Hatter’s winning move will be. 

And then, the Mad Hatter does a forward somersault. But when he lands, his feet barely touch the floor, as he immediately sends himself flying into a backwards somersault.

The crowd goes wild like they’re never seen a flip before.

Batman takes the Mad Hatter’s hand in his own and raises it high towards the sky, before they both take a bow.

“That was the weirdest thing I’ve seen all day.” Shane utters, pleasantly surprised, as the dancers pass around a hat to collect money from the audience. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Camden, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“Bet you didn’t think we’d see that today, huh?” Ryan says, dropping a few pound coins into the hat as it reaches them. “Food?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Shane replies, following Ryan through the crowd of people, as they disperse now that the performance is over.

* * *

Turns out, Camden market serves every kind of food they’ve both ever heard of and more. Ryan mentions that they should tell Steven about it when they get back to LA, before they decide that he probably already knows.

They’re sitting on two oversized stones, food in hand, joking around as they always are, when Shane feels it.

He looks across at Ryan, catching him mid-laugh and realises he could replay this moment and never get bored of it. There’s a warmth in his chest and it’s like the thing that had been missing has returned, falling back into place before he even realised it was gone. It’s like the empty gap inside him is suddenly full and he’s only just now realising how empty it was. An  _ ‘oh, there you are’ _ moment. It’s strange and bittersweet and confusing.

Since the breakup with Sara, he’s been feeling this  _ thing  _ getting out of hand. And he knows, now that he’s single and allowing himself to fully feel whatever this is, that it isn’t going away. He can’t push this down and hide from it like he has been for the past however long. 

He’s spent  _ years  _ of his life, convincing himself that he was reading his feelings wrong, mistaking strictly platonic feelings for romantic ones. 

He’d convinced himself that  _ of course he found Ryan hot, anyone with eyes would  _ and  _ I’m not attracted to him, he’s my best friend  _ were two statements that could coexist.

He’d convinced himself that if this was romantic, it was nothing more than a silly, little crush. That it would vanish in a few months, when the old wounds of his last relationship had healed and he was moving on.

But it’s so much more than that and he feels like, for the first time, he can finally see the extent of it. All the lingering glances, all the butterflies, all the songs on the radio making sense, all the side stepping on the pavement to avoid brushing hands. He almost feels sick with how cheesy and disgustingly emotional it is.

He feels it hit him like a gust of wind at sea threatening to capsize his ship leaving no survivors, an epiphany to a sleepwalking man who’s long been searching for his awakening.

He feels the gust of wind win, sinking his ship. He feels _everything_ wash over him at once like one gigantic wave and it feels like he’s gasping for air. He feels himself succumbing to the ocean as it overwhelms him. Sinking. Drowning in it.

This is more than a stupid crush on one of his coworkers, born from too much time together. It’s something that’s been brewing under the surface for longer than he knows, that he’s only been vaguely aware of.

This is more.

He's fucked.

_ Fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nothing if not overdramatic. Hope this wasn't too unbearably over the top lol, I just figured it would all come to a head out of nowhere. At least, it usually does for me.
> 
> Let me know what you think/if it's too much and I'll edit accordingly :)
> 
> Also, I love Camden sm but the dude that dresses up as the Mad Hatter there is creepy as fuck.


	6. i could never give you peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, sorry for the delay on this chapter! i got inspired and wrote another one-shot lol, but here's chapter six!<3

They walk around Camden market until the sun starts disappearing behind the buildings, until the aching of their feet is a little too much. The day passes by far quicker than Shane would’ve liked, a blur of laughter, two men joking around in the middle of a crowd.

It occurs to Shane that he’ll never be able to smell incense again without picturing this day, without remembering the way Ryan’s eyes lit up, laughing at the sight of some cheesy, matching shirts that only the most shameless of tourists would wear.

But something shifted for Shane this afternoon. He can’t help but frame every situation in a different light, closely inspecting and over-analysing every look, every touch, every joke. He keeps reminding himself that nothing has changed, not really, he’s just realised something that he should have noticed years ago. Nothing has changed for either of them, it’s all in his head.

And yet, he stands beside Ryan in the packed tube carriage, unable to think about anything else.

A voice booms through the speakers, announcing the next station as the train pulls to a stop. People start budging their way to the front, piling out of the carriage before the doors are even fully open. 

Shane doesn’t even notice it’s their stop, until he’s being pulled after Ryan, who’s tugging his wrist.

“Sorry, big guy, didn’t want to lose you on there.” Ryan says and there’s a pause, before he seems to remember that his fingers are wrapped around Shane’s wrist. He lets go.

“It’s all good,” Shane says, shrugging and aiming for nonchalance. They walk up the stairs and scan their tickets at the gate, being pulled along by the flow of the crowd, as everyone around them seems to rush towards the exit. 

“We have,” Ryan starts, checking his phone for the time. “Two hours to kill before we need to head to the location.” He puts his phone in his back pocket, as they step out onto the street. He looks either way, before turning right. 

Shane follows Ryan, a few paces behind.

Out of nowhere, Shane’s struck with the realisation that there’s no way Ryan can ever find out about  _ this.  _ It would completely destroy everything they’ve built, not just Unsolved, but Watcher too. Oh God, they own a  _ company  _ together now. The stakes are so much higher. If he ruined this because of his stupid  _ feelings _ , Shane’s not sure he would ever forgive himself.

Deep down, he knows Ryan would be cool about it. He’s known him long enough now to know that he’s not homophobic, that he’s a pretty chill guy. But there’s always the niggling thought in the back of his mind that keeps him panicking. What if he doesn’t know Ryan as well as he thought he did? What if Ryan  _ bros out _ on him and freaks out?

Or even worse, what if Ryan’s totally cool about it but from that point on, everything’s too awkward to bear? Shane can imagine it already. He can see them losing their rhythm, unable to banter like they used to, everything falling off kilter. He can see the production meetings, deciding to axe their shows together and aiming for more content as a trio or individually.

He decides then and there that he has to be more careful. He promises himself that he’ll do his best to make sure Ryan never finds out. If not just for the company, but for Ryan.

“For someone with such long legs, you’re a slow walker.” Ryan says, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Shane with a smile. But when he sees Shane’s expression, nothing short of crestfallen, his smile falters a little. “What you thinking about?”

“What? Nothing, I’m good,” Shane says, overly enthusiastic, plastering a smile onto his face. For a moment, Ryan hesitates, unsure whether he should sweep this under the carpet and ignore it or press further.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Ryan says and the sincerity of it hits Shane in the heart, a sharp pang going through his chest. 

“You sure you wanna know what’s going on here, Ryan?” Shane jokes, tapping his temple with his index finger. “So much Hot Daga,  _ so much. _ ” 

“Your brain’s a scary place, dude.” Ryan says, pretending to be scared for the bit, as he turns back around and carries on walking back to the hotel, now that Shane’s caught up. 

* * *

When they get back to their room, the cleaners have been in. The bed is freshly made, there’s new towels in the bathroom and the air smells nicer, less stale and more like freshly washed laundry. The curtains are open and for the first time since they arrived, Shane notices the view. They’d spent their time with the curtains closed, trying to catch up on missed sleep, never realising that the window looked out onto a busy London high street.

Below them, people are wandering around, some aimlessly and some with so much purpose that they’re almost running. Shane takes a second to just look, taking it all in. He briefly wonders what goes through the brain of each person as they pass by.

“Room service?” When he turns around, Shane sees Ryan waving a menu in his direction. Shane quirks an eyebrow, neither of them should be spending that much money on food, especially with London prices. “Buzzfeed budget.”

“Well, since they’re paying,” Shane says, taking the menu from Ryan’s hand. They sit on the edge of the bed, side by side and look through the menu. But Shane couldn’t tell you what was on the menu, too distracted by the side of Ryan’s body pressing against his.

Eventually, they decide to play it safe and get pizza. Ryan picks up the phone, dialing down to reception and putting in the order.

“They said twenty minutes,” Ryan says, as he puts the phone back and sits back beside Shane. 

To fill the time, Shane reaches across Ryan and grabs the remote, turning on the television. He knows neither of them will fully appreciate whatever’s on, they probably won’t even have heard of it, but it fills the silence and passes the time. He scrolls through the guide and settles on reruns of a show called  _ You’ve Been Framed. _

There’s a comfortable silence for about ten minutes, as they watch the home videos, laughing at some that are particularly funny. When Shane looks away from the screen, Ryan’s looking at him. He doesn’t know how long he’s been watching him, but it feels like a while. When their eyes meet, Ryan looks down and tries to suppress a small smile.

“What?” Shane asks, a smile forming on his own face. There’s another pause that stretches, the air somehow heavier than it was moments before with something that Shane can’t name. Ryan looks at his hands and it’s the first time Shane’s seen him look almost shy.

“Nothing,” Ryan says, finally looking Shane in the eyes again. By now, Shane thinks he could name every shade of every speck of colour in Ryan’s eyes, he thinks he could paint them from memory alone if he was any good at art.

“What’s up?” Shane says, somewhere close to laughing but not quite. Ryan just shrugs, his smile still present on his lips but larger, no longer hiding.

“Nothing, just thinking,” Ryan says, his voice trailing off towards the end, edging towards a hush. Deciding not to press it, Shane smiles at him. Unlike before, when Shane looks at him, Ryan’s gaze doesn’t shift. He keeps looking and not for the first time, Shane wishes he could see what was going on his head.

“Alright,” Shane whispers, not even fully aware of what he’s saying. It just feels like it’s his turn to say something. The television sounds further away than it is, somehow quieter than it was before, as though the two of them are underwater, in their own bubble of air as everything around them sinks to the ocean floor.

“Room service,” Someone at the door says, their knuckles rapping on the wood twice. 

Normally, when they have these  _ moments _ \- Shane still isn’t sure what they are - they’re snapped out of them immediately at any sound around them. But this time, there’s hesitation, neither of them wanting to be the first to move. 

Ryan goes to speak but before he gets the chance, there’s another knock at the door. He opens his mouth, once, twice, before he closes it again and tears his gaze away from Shane’s.

“I’ll get it,” Ryan murmurs, heading towards the door, whilst Shane’s left to sit there and wonder what Ryan could possibly have wanted to say. He hears Ryan say thank you and shut the door, as he trains his eyes on the TV, trying not to look like he’s overanalysing everything. 

Beside him, the bed sinks a little, as Ryan sits down beside him, two boxes in his hands, sliding himself up the bed and crossing his legs. He hands Shane one of the boxes, before putting his on the duvet and opening it.

“Thanks,” Shane says, picking up a slice as soon as he opens the box, only recognising how hungry he is now that the smell of freshly-cooked pizza is assaulting his nose.

Credits show up on the TV screen, as the program of the show they’d been watching comes to an end and the theme song plays. Neither of them reach for the remote, mindlessly watching the screen as it turns black and the advertisements start rolling. 

“You gonna give me any clues about where we’re going tonight?” Shane asks, more to start a conversation than anything, as he already knows the answer. He takes another bite of pizza.

“Nope,” Ryan says, popping the ‘p’. He puts a particularly hard crust back in the box and turns towards Shane. “Lots of history though. You’ll like it, you know, ‘cause you’re a nerd.” Ryan teases.

“Oh, this coming from the man who spends  _ how long  _ researching every crime ever committed?” Shane shoots back, after swallowing his pizza - his mother taught him manners, of course.

“Come on, you have a history show with  _ puppets _ !” Ryan says and at this point, the pizza has been abandoned.

“I’ll have you know that the Professor doesn’t like being called a puppet,” Shane says, revelling in the way Ryan chuckles at it. 

“What do I call him? A cursed object?” Ryan asks. Shane loves when they get like this, like each retort is another swing of the racquet in the back and forth of a tennis match, sending the ball back to the other person.

“Cursed objects don’t exist or Annabelle would’ve killed us on the car ride. Either that or she’s a coward.” Shane says with a nod, feigning seriousness. 

“I still can’t believe you  _ teased  _ a cursed object.” Ryan says, shaking his head as a small chuckle racks his body. Shane picks up another slice of pizza and shrugs.

“All these demonic things you keep taking me to see are  _ cowards,  _ Annabelle, Goatman. They’re all bark, no bite.” Shane says, playing it up a bit for effect, and Ryan shakes his head again, still laughing a little.

Taking a bite of his pizza, Shane checks his phone and sees that it’s already eleven o’clock, meaning they have to leave in about ten minutes if they want to get to location on time. It occurs to him that maybe they shouldn’t have spent the day walking around Camden, because now he’s tired and ready to go to bed, not spend hours walking around a ‘haunted’ location.

“What time is it?” Ryan says, glancing across at Shane as he puts another crust back in the pizza box.

“Eleven,” Shane says, as he closes his pizza box, saving the rest for after the shoot. 

“Shit.” They both know it’ll take them about ten minutes to get downstairs, the elevator taking far longer than it should to stop at their floor. Ryan closes his pizza box and puts it on the floor beside the bed.

The minutes always seem to pass quicker when they’re on Unsolved trips. A day can feel like an hour, two hours can feel like no more than two minutes. Part of Shane is glad for it, glad that neither of them are ever bored and always kept busy. 

But part of him also wishes it could slow down. He doesn’t know how many more Unsolved shoots they’ve got left in them and he hates that they go by too quickly for him to fully appreciate them. The days blur into one, fragments of memories forming a mosaic until Shane can barely pick out an individual moment without having to dismantle the entire thing. 

“You ready, big guy?” Ryan asks, holding open the door to their room and waiting for Shane to follow him out. With a nod, Shane steps out the room and the door closes behind them, locking automatically. And out of the blue, that energy is back, the _something_ that Shane still can't name that makes the air heavier around them, like every moment is intentional and charged. He tries to keep his expectations in check.

They walk down the hallway side by side and for once, Shane doesn’t step to the side so that their fingers don’t brush. 


	7. i never had the courage of my convictions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extra long chapter tonight because i couldn't help myself! hope you enjoy!<3

When they arrive at the location, the owner is there to greet them, as per usual. Once they thank them for letting them borrow the place for the night, they set up the equipment by the bar. Shane had never heard of this place, a slightly rundown, cream-coloured pub that didn’t look much different from the others dotted around London. 

They’re putting on their microphones, as the rest of the crew set up the cameras and test the sound, when Shane notices Ryan struggling with the microphone, the clasp refusing to stick to his shirt.

“Come here,” Shane says, stepping into Ryan’s space and adjusting the microphone. It takes him a few tries but it eventually grabs onto Ryan’s collar. Shane focuses all of his attention on making sure his hands don’t shake and hopes Ryan doesn’t notice. 

“Thanks,” Ryan murmurs, glancing up at Shane and smiling at him. 

“Alright, quiet on set, everyone ready?” TJ calls out, met with a quiet hum of approval from the room. Once the final preparations have been made, the slate set and mark called, the cameras start rolling.

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate The Spainard’s Inn, as part of our ongoing investigation into the question, ‘Are ghosts real?’” For the second and final time on the trip, Ryan goes through the intro and Shane makes a disapproving and disgusted face to the camera. They’re just going through the motions.

“The Spaniard’s Inn was built in 1585 and is said to have been a favourite of Dick Turpin, an infamous British highwayman. His father was the landlord and it’s said that he spent countless hours here, planning his next heist and eyeing unsuspecting travellers.” Ryan says, reading off the paper in his lap, his voice change prominent as he goes from Ryan to the Unsolved narrator.

“Maybe he just liked the beer,” Shane intercepts, drawing out his words in a sarcastic manner, as though Dick Turpin couldn’t possibly have been doing anything but drinking. 

“Dude, are you defending Dick Turpin?” Ryan asks, a ghost of a smile haunting his lips.

“I’m just saying maybe he wasn’t that bad, maybe he just loved beer and got swept up into the highwayman business.” Shane says, raising his hands in surrender as Ryan shakes his head, laughing a little.

“Dick Turpin, ale lover and occasional thief.” Ryan says, waving his hands in a semi circle, like the name is up in lights. He shakes his head once and scrunches up his face. “Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.”

“Probably why he chose to be a highwayman.” Shane says, going along with the bit as they both laugh at their own jokes.

“Many have said to have seen Dick Turpin’s ghost haunting the inn, sometimes even travelling on horseback.” 

“That poor horse,” Shane mutters and Ryan’s expression goes from serious to cracking up in record time, the demeanor of the stony narrator long gone.

“Imagine having to carry him around for hundreds of years, bet that horse is  _ ripped. _ ” Ryan counters and it’s Shane’s turn to crack up, caught by surprise by the direction Ryan goes.

“You jealous of the horse’s  _ gains _ ?” Shane teases, the terminology foreign in his mouth. Leaning back in his chair, Ryan chuckles, imagining a horse lifting weights seems to have got to him.

“No way he can lift as much as me.” Ryan says, deepening his voice, putting on a character as he flexes his muscles. 

“Ryan, it’s a  _ ghost horse _ . It isn’t lifting jack squat.” Shane says, before the sound of TJ’s voice calls over the laughter, shouting cut, sending them to the next room. 

When Shane follows the crew into the next room, he feels Ryan’s eyes watching him go, burning holes into his back. He chalks it down to hope and his mind playing tricks on him, deciding that he’s choosing to see things that aren’t there.

But when he looks back, Ryan’s eyes meet his, before his gaze skirts to the door.

“You coming?” Shane asks, quirking his eyebrow. He’s more than a little confused, but then again, he’s never been too good at reading emotions.

Ryan follows him out the door.

* * *

The shoot goes as it should, no hitches. But it still feels different and Shane can’t put his finger on why. It’s more electric, like everything is dialed up to a thousand. It’s like there’s a gravitational pull, forcing them closer together with each passing minute. 

The bits go on a little too long, both of them enjoying themselves too much. There isn’t much in terms of “evidence”, but Shane knows the fans will love this episode, if not just for the banter.

“Let’s set for the solo walks, grab the GoPros.” TJ says. As soon as the words leave his mouth, the room bursts into a flurry of action, everyone rushing around, trying to save time so they can leave before the sun comes up.

“You wanna go first?” Shane teases, elbowing Ryan. He shakes his head, still smiling even though he’s clearly nervous.

“All yours.” Ryan says, as he presents the room to Shane with his arms. 

Once the GoPro is strapped to him, Shane nods at the crew and heads towards the room they’re investigating individually - a basement that’s said to be haunted by both Dick Turpin and a mysterious Woman in White.

“See you in five,” Shane says, turning to face his friend before he takes the first step into the cellar. Ryan nods.

As to be expected, the basement is dark and it takes Shane’s eyes a moment to adjust. There’s no windows looking out onto the street but even if there was, the sun has long since set and it wouldn’t provide any extra light, apart from reflections of street lamps and the moonlight.

He reaches his hands out in front of him before he walks so he doesn’t bump into anything, waiting for his eyes to acclimatise to the darkness. 

For a wine cellar in a successful tavern, the place is pretty empty. The bottles of wine are shelved against the walls, boxing in the space and leaving a long walkway with no obstructions.

“Dicky boy, come out and play!” Shane shouts, coming out of the gate strong and aggressive. No response. “Are you too chicken? Too scared of ole Shane Madej?”

No response again.

Shane’s not surprised, he wasn’t expecting a booming voice to answer him.

“If you’re gonna answer anyone, better answer me. Because  _ boy,  _ Ryan’s coming in next and he-” His spiel is cut off by a wine bottle falling from the shelves. 

Shane turns and can just make out the mixture of shattered glass and wine seeping into the laminate.

“Awfully windy tonight, isn’t it Rich?” Shane laughs, continuing down the corridor with his arms by his sides, his eyes now able to make out shapes and shadows around the cellar. 

For a brief moment, he thinks of Ryan’s reaction, his arms flailing and grin wide as he celebrates the evidence, not letting Shane’s disbelief deter him. Shane isn’t looking forward to telling him the GoPro missed it.

He adjusts the camera, checking that the framing is still in the right place.

Bored and overtired, his mind wanders to the afternoon in Camden. It doesn’t feel like hours ago, it feels like it happened weeks ago, like this day has stretched out and overstayed its welcome. But Shane’s not complaining, if he gets to wander around supposed haunted locations with Ryan for the rest of his days, it would hardly be a punishment. Not to mention, he’s always loved London, so it’s a win-win.

He keeps walking aimlessly, shouting out whatever questions and insults come into his brain, without filtering through them. Apart from the wine bottle, there’s no sign of movement or any sound for the rest of the “investigation”.

“That’s five minutes, big guy!” Ryan shouts down the stairs, the light from the room above shining down the stairs. 

“Well, nice meeting you.” Shane says, adding a little salute in for good measure, before he makes his way back upstairs.

“How’d it go?” Ryan asks, his eyes wider than normal as his turn downstairs approaches.

“Meh.” Shane says, sounding unimpressed.

“ _ Meh?  _ We heard glass smash!” Ryan utters, unsure of how Shane can always be this calm and unaffected, even through things that would make Ryan’s skin crawl.

“Just a wine bottle rolling off the shelf, no biggie.” Shane shrugs and he’s not pretending, he really doesn’t see the big deal about one shattered bottle. Ryan, on the other hand, is practically bouncing in place, closer to fear than excitement, knowing that he has to go down there next.

“Just a--?” He cuts himself off, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. “Okay. I’ll see you in five.” Ryan says, putting up less of a fight than Shane thought he would, as he steps down into the cellar, determined.

“Tell Dicky I said hi!” Shane yells after him and he’s met with Ryan flipping him off. He motions to the camera, as if to say ‘Did you see that? Did you see what I have to deal with?’.

The minutes pass slower upstairs than they do in the basement, but he knows the opposite is true for Ryan. He can practically feel the panic radiating up through the floorboards. 

He knows Ryan is freaking out already. It’s dark down there, so dark that Ryan’s eyes will probably play tricks on him. He’ll see figures in the corner of the room that aren’t there, shelves morphing into ghosts. 

Not to mention, it’s deadly quiet. The only noise Shane could hear down there was his own voice, it was almost like it was soundproofed. He knows Ryan will hear whispers, breaths, thumps that aren’t real. He knows Ryan’s going to be a stressed mess when he comes back up.

“Nothing down there, lil Richard is six feet under in a graveyard,  _ not _ a wine cellar.” He says to the camera, passing the time and hoping to add some B-roll. “I bet Ryan’s losing it, it’s so dark.” 

Below them, Shane hears a series of shouts but he can’t make out what’s being said. He can’t even tell if the yells are from panic or delirium. He checks the time on the stopwatch and notices there are just under three minutes left.

He kind of feels bad. Even after all these years, Ryan’s still not desensitised to the whole “ghost thing”. Any little noise scares him and spending five minutes down there alone in that state sounds like hell. Part of him wishes Ryan wouldn’t put himself through this, that they would tell Buzzfeed to stuff it and just work on Watcher projects.

But then, he sees his face whenever they get evidence. The exhilaration, the way he would spend an impossible amount of hours pouring through audio recordings until he found one breath out of place, one unrecognisable whisper. Finding evidence was his fuel on these trips, he knew that was probably the only reason Ryan still does it.

That and the free trips around the country, or in this case across the pond, using Buzzfeed money.

Shane checks the watch again. Fifty seconds.

He hopes the bottle that broke downstairs isn’t too expensive.

He pulls the GoPro off of his chest and sets it down on the table beside him, feeling lighter than he did moments ago. He hadn’t realised how much the GoPro was weighing him down until he took it off.

There’s another shout downstairs but this time, it drags on, sounding like a battle cry. Shane chuckles.

When the five minutes are up, Shane nods at the camera and opens the door to the cellar.

“That’s five minutes, Ry!” He calls. There’s a silence that stretches and no response. Shane shoots the camera a puzzled look. “I’ll go get him.”

Going back down the stairs, he’d forgotten just how dark the basement was. Somehow, in the short time that had passed, he had convinced himself that it wasn’t that dark down here. He holds onto the banister to steady himself, taking each step carefully so as to avoid slipping down the stairs.

“Ry?” He asks, his words being swallowed by the darkness. It’s then that he realises he never reached the end of the corridor, he doesn’t know how far this cellar stretches beneath the pub. He hopes he doesn’t find Ryan at the end, passed out from getting himself too worked up and stressed.

“Down here!” Ryan yells back and Shane’s thankful that he doesn’t sound too far away, that he doesn’t have to spend the next hour walking through a dark void. 

“Your time’s up, little guy.” Shane says, wading through the dark and trying to follow Ryan’s voice. “Where even are yo--”

His words are replaced with an ‘oof’ as he walks directly into Ryan.

Trying not to fall over, Shane grabs onto what he assumes is Ryan’s shoulders for a second, planting his feet. He feels two hands skirt over his waist and rest there.

“Jesus Christ, Shane.” Ryan says, laughter leaking through his words. Shane reaches his hand around in the dark, searching for his friend, until his hand hits something. “Yep. Hi.” Ryan says, his voice a little higher than before.

“This place needs some lights.” Shane says, his voice no louder than a huff of laughter. The hands on his waist feel like they’re singing his clothes, burning through to the skin. He places a hand back on Ryan’s shoulder. 

“Shut up, Shane.” Ryan laughs and he’s so close that Shane can see the outline of his features in the dark. He can see Ryan looking up at him, that same expression on his face that he had earlier, like Shane’s a case he’s trying to solve, like he’s got all the clues but he can’t quite put it together.

“You’re gonna have to lead the way out because my eyes are  _ not great. _ ” Shane whispers, not wanting to disrupt the silence of the cellar.

Ryan laughs and budges past Shane, his hands falling to his sides as he heads towards the exit. Shane still feels the warmth where his hands were, even after they’re gone. 

Without thinking, Shane reaches forward and grabs Ryan’s hand, before he can get too far away.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I can’t see shit,” Shane explains, as Ryan leads them out of the cellar. It took his eyes a few minutes to get used to the lack of light last time, now he feels like they’re just getting to grips with the surroundings, but it’s still too dark to see Ryan ahead of him. 

The silence hangs heavy in the air, Ryan’s hand in Shane’s, the only noise being the echo of their footsteps.

“Okay, stairs.” Ryan warns, stepping up onto the first stair. Shane follows closely behind, his hand still in Ryan’s, even though they both know he’d be able to find his way out by himself now, that he’d probably be safer holding onto the bannister. “Careful,” Ryan says, finally letting go of Shane’s hand and pushing open the door.

Light floods in and Shane squints.

“Everything okay?” Devon asks, looking concerned. It occurs to Shane that he’s not sure how long they were down there, but it can’t have been longer than a few minutes.

“Yeah, just a longer cellar than I thought.” Ryan says, rubbing the back of his neck where his hairline ends, his cheeks a little pinker than usual. If Shane didn’t know better, he’d say Ryan looks a little nervous. Probably just the remnants of his fright from the cellar.

“Alright, well, let’s get closing statements and call it a wrap!” TJ says, as Ryan takes off his GoPro. For some reason, Ryan won’t meet his eyes, rushing to follow the crew into the main bar area to finish the shoot. 

It’s like he’s seeing Ryan for the first time, as though he isn’t the person Shane knows best. It’s like his brain can’t figure out what’s going on, he doesn’t understand.

He watches Ryan leave the room, a thousand questions flying through his head.


	8. would you have me, would you want me

The shoot finishes at around three o’clock in the morning, a little earlier than they expected. The sun is still buried behind the buildings when they step out onto the street, into the rental cars they parked on the curb hours ago.

Shane’s bones ache. He’s not old, but he sure feels it after these shoots. Every time they stay up all night walking around a desolate building, Shane thinks he gets a taste of how he’ll feel in thirty years, elderly and fragile. He tilts his neck to the side and it lets out a satisfying crack.

In the car, the air feels thick, the silence now uncomfortable. Shane sits behind the wheel, feeling like he’s itching out of his skin. He wonders whether he should put on the radio for some background noise, whether he should just crack a joke and act normal.

They’ve been driving for around forty minutes now and neither of them have said a word.

It feels weird to not be messing around and chatting back and forth. It feels like the ground has been pulled out from under him. It feels like Shane is falling to the bottom of a pit and never learned how to climb back up, because he never thought he’d have to.

Even after their worst arguments, things weren’t like this. He doesn’t think it’s anger, more like Ryan has retreated into his own mind and locked the door behind him, refusing to let Shane inside. He wants to ask what’s going on, but decides against it.

Instead, he retraces his steps over the past few hours, beating himself up over every little slip up, every time he got a little too close and Ryan could’ve seen what he’d been trying to keep inside.

He forces himself to try and think about  _ anything  _ else, but it somehow always loops back around to Ryan. 

For a split second, he takes his eyes off the road and glances across at him. He watches Ryan just stare ahead, not really focusing on anything in particular and the expression on his face unreadable. Shane’s no more clued in on the situation than he was before.

Putting on the indicator, he pulls the car into the hotel car park, following the crew’s car and parking a few spots down.

Shane unbuckles his seatbelt and jumps out of the car, twisting the keys around his fingers. It takes him a moment to realise Ryan hasn’t moved.

“Ryan?” Shane says, his voice low as he ducks down, careful not to bang his head on the roof of the car.

“Hm?” Ryan mumbles, looking at Shane for the first time since they started driving. Hoping to ease the tension, Shane smiles at him.

“We’re here.” Shane says, climbing back out of the car and shutting the door behind him. This time, Ryan follows suit.

The walk to the hotel is silent, too. As is the elevator ride, and the walk to the room, all the way down the hallway. 

It’s only when they get into the hotel room that Shane decides he’s going to have to say something. He thinks forward to the long haul flight they have booked tomorrow, seated next to each other. If things are still this way then, Shane might throw himself out of the plane.

“Ry, you okay?” Shane asks, like he’s approaching a wild animal that could bolt at any second. From where he’s sat on the edge of the bed, Ryan’s head shoots up.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He responds, aggressive and defensive from the start. But he seems to realise it, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “Sorry, I just-” He cuts himself off. Shane waits for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

“You said I could talk to you about anything, right?” Shane replies, sitting down next to Ryan on the bed. He leaves a little more distance than usual, careful and precise.

“Yeah, of course?” Ryan says but it comes out sounding like a question, like he can’t figure out where Shane’s going with this and he’s a little apprehensive to find out. Shane fights the urge to look away and break eye contact.

“Well,  _ you _ can talk to  _ me _ about anything.” Shane says, a small smile on his lips. At that, Ryan smiles back but there’s a sadness to it. He looks down at his lap. “What’s buggin’ ya?”

Shane could give him an out. He knows this, that he could just ask if it was still lingering nerves from the location. He’s pretty sure Ryan would lie and say yes and that’d be the end of it. But the awkwardness wouldn’t go away, and Shane would always wonder what was up.

He sits there, just waiting, watching as Ryan freaks out. 

Then, it’s like a switch is flipped. Ryan swallows and looks back at Shane, more determined than he was before, like he’s a solitary warrior facing an army with nothing but a sword.

Shane feels his heart thrumming, counts the beats, one, two, three. 

He watches as Ryan looks at him, searching his eyes for something. It’s like Shane’s been stripped bare, that Ryan can see right down to the core of him, see right through any disguise he tries to wear. But strangely, he doesn’t feel embarrassed, more exposed, like he’s finally coming out of hiding.

He’s surprised to find he doesn’t mind. He would let Ryan examine every thought in his brain if he wanted to.

Ryan’s eyes flit down to Shane’s lips and it feels like all the air has been pulled out of him. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting but it hadn’t been this.

But he doesn’t have time to overthink it before Ryan’s lips are on his.

For a second, he freezes and forgets to kiss back, too shocked and confused. But then Ryan’s pulling away, muttering apologies and standing up and  _ no. _

So, Shane stands up to meet him and immediately, Ryan shuts up.

He takes a step forward into Ryan’s personal space, closing the gap between them and gently placing one hand on Ryan’s jaw. It’s almost too easy to lean down and press their lips together.

Against his forehead, he feels Ryan’s eyebrows furrow, as he pulls Shane closer, grasping at anything within his reach until his hands settle on the collar of his t-shirt. Shane’s hand twists its way into Ryan’s hair, without him even realising he’s doing it.

It’s like his mind is clear and fuzzy at the same time, like he can feel every little thing, every touch and every breath, but the edges are out of focus, like a vignette or a dream. Shane knows he wouldn’t notice if something happened outside of their little bubble.

Somewhere in the back of Shane’s brain, a voice whispers that they should talk about this, but he pushes it down and ignores it. Mostly because he doesn’t want this to end. But part of him is scared to. He doesn’t know what he’d do if this meant nothing to Ryan. If this was a product of a freak out, projecting feelings that he didn’t have because Shane was just  _ there _ . Because Shane was the one to comfort him.

He feels Ryan’s hands slide down his neck, feels his fingers shaking ever so slightly as they reach Shane’s hairline, trembling. He feels Ryan’s hands travel until they’re at the hem of his shirt, tugging on it and Shane gets that message loud and clear.

Shane’s the first to pull back, moving his hands to Ryan’s shoulders, as his eyes scan Ryan’s face, searching for any sign that he’s second guessing.

“Is this okay?” Shane asks, his voice barely above a hush and a smile pulls at Ryan’s lips.

“More than okay, you?” Ryan replies. He reaches up and pushes Shane’s hair out of his face, moving the stray strands that had fallen down during the kiss. Shane can’t help but smile at the tenderness of it, and Ryan smiles back. 

“Same here.” Shane says, before lifting his shirt over his head and throwing it on the floor behind him. Never one to be subtle, Shane pulls on the hem of Ryan’s shirt and Ryan does the same, yanking his shirt over his head. 

There’s a second where neither of them move, just standing still in the moment before everything changes, for better or for worse. 

But then, almost in sync, they both lean back in, the kiss more urgent, somehow deeper than it was before. They’re stumbling towards the bed, the back of Shane’s knees hitting the mattress. 

But Ryan loses his balance and suddenly, they’re both tumbling down, falling onto the bed. It’s much less graceful than they’d hoped - Shane nearly headbutts Ryan in the face.

“Jesus  _ Christ. _ ” Ryan mutters through uncontrollable laughter, shaking his head. Shane can’t help but lean his head against Ryan’s shoulder, chuckling, the sound reverberating through him. 

“Such beauty, such grace,” Shane says, putting on an accent. 

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan says, but there’s no heat behind it, they’re both still laughing.

“Make me-“ Shane’s words stop short as Ryan’s lips press against his once more. 

As he pulls Ryan into his lap, he hopes they’re both on the same page, because in that moment, Shane’s sure he could do this for the rest of his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few chapters left of the fall-out! i hope you enjoyed this one!<3


	9. leaving like a father, running like water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay on this chapter! i got pretty ill mentally and couldn't face doing much, but i managed to write this chapter tonight. hope you like it!<3

Shane wakes up to the sound of the shower running, the space beside him cold and abandoned. Light pours in from the window, the curtains already open wide. He rolls over and checks the time on his phone, it’s just after noon. There’s still an hour and a half before they need to be at the airport.

A slight breeze brushes against his chest and Shane quickly realises he’s wearing nothing but his boxers. For a brief moment, he’d forgotten what had happened last night but the memory floods back to the forefront of his brain. 

He remembers kissing Ryan and pulling him to the bed, a puzzle piece slotting into place in his chest. He remembers the gasps, the moans, every single touch, he’s sure he could pinpoint the exact places Ryan touched him, like he’s branded and burned. He remembers holding Ryan as they fell asleep, kissing the place where his neck met his shoulders.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Ryan says, sounding casual enough to anyone else but Shane knows him better than that, sensing the tinge of panic in his voice. 

He sounds a little disappointed, like he wasn’t expecting Shane to be awake and he had hoped he wouldn’t be there when he was. 

Ryan ruffles his wet hair with a towel, making the strands stand up on end. 

“We need to leave in about half an hour.” He continues, nods at Shane once and averts his eyes to the ground, walking towards his suitcase.

Shane feels like he’s a step behind again, scrambling to catch up.

“Okay? I just need to pack.” He says because he feels the need to speak. Shane swings his legs around and sits up, perching on the edge of the bed. Suddenly, he feels very exposed, wanting nothing more than to get dressed.

His brain whirs through thoughts, each one passing by for a split second before being replaced by the next, as anxiety sends him spiralling. 

What changed? What happened? Last night, Shane thought they were maybe in agreement about what they both wanted, but now it seems like a lifetime ago. It’s like he can feel Ryan pulling away, slipping out of reach and he has no idea how to fix it.

Was it something he said? Something he did? His brain replays every excruciating detail of the night before, but nothing stands out. 

Instead, it just  _ hurts _ . He just feels more hollow, like a hand has reached inside his chest and pulled everything apart, leaving him bleeding on the inside but seeming fine to anyone that looks at him.

He can’t help but glance at Ryan, who’s piling his clothes back into his suitcase. But he seems fine, unaffected. And that just hurts more.

So, he sets his features into a neutral expression, determined not to let the cracks show through. 

For a moment, he considers asking Ryan what’s going on, asking him if they can talk about last night. But he imagines all the possible outcomes, all the worst case scenarios of ‘sorry, it was just the location had me riled up’ and ‘it’s just because we’re in London’ and decides against it. He’s not sure he could take it if Ryan confirmed all his worst fears.

More than anything, he just feels stupid. His brain screams at him that this was obvious from the get-go, that he should’ve expected nothing else, that he left himself open to hurt again and it’s nobody’s fault but his own. He just feels stupid.

He goes through the motions, unfocused, as he pulls on his clothes and packs up the remainders of his belongings. He brushes his teeth, pushes his fingers through his hair, everything that before seemed trivial now feels like a big task, as his mind continues to race. 

He tries to distract himself by thinking of what food he’ll eat at the airport - Shane’s always loved airports and now, he’s a little mad that he can’t properly enjoy the experience.

After what feels like an eternity, he’s ready to go but when he checks his phone, they still have a few minutes before they need to leave. He looks across the room at Ryan, as he sits there on his phone, scrolling mindlessly. 

For what must be the millionth time, Shane wishes he could hear all the thoughts Ryan refused to speak. How much easier everything would be if that was the case. They probably never would’ve got into this predicament in the first place.

Ryan must have felt Shane’s eyes on him, watching curiously, because he looks up and their eyes meet.

“What?” Ryan asks, as though he’s completely oblivious to the shift in, not only the room, but their relationship. For the first time, it occurs to Shane that maybe he  _ is  _ unaware of it. Maybe this was nothing more than a hook-up to him, a risky one based on their history and the fact they  _ own a company together  _ but still.

Everything inside him wants to ask, wants to shout, wants to do  _ something. _

Shane opens his mouth and closes it again.

“Nothing,” He murmurs, looking away and fiddling with the zip on his suitcase. “Time to go.” He says, as he heads for the door, pulling his suitcase behind him and not checking to see if Ryan is following him.

* * *

Everything about it is so  _ awkward _ . Shane thinks that’s maybe the worst part. They’ve always had this kind of easy, no-effort chemistry, where they could talk for hours on end and never run out of things to say. Now, Shane can’t think of a single thing to say and even if he did, he thinks the words would go ignored anyway.

He doesn’t think Ryan’s angry. He knows very well what Ryan’s like when he’s angry at him, he doesn’t stew in his feelings, he’s outspoken about it. At least, to Shane. It feels more like Ryan has closed himself off, built back up every wall Shane had ever knocked down. It doesn’t feel like fire, furious and spilling over. It feels cold.

They take the rental car back in silence, ordering a taxi to the airport.

“Taxi for Madedge?” The driver calls as the car pulls to a stop in front of them, absolutely butchering the pronunciation of Shane’s last name. Beside him, Ryan lets out a snort and Shane feels the heaviness around his heart lift a little. It’s the first Ryan-like response all day.

“Yep, Mad-hedge.” Shane says, going along with it. He’s a little too tired and a little too polite to correct the taxi driver, besides it seems like Ryan’s loving the bit, as Shane catches him trying to suppress a laugh.

“Let me take your bags.” The driver says, his accent that of a Scouser rather than a Londoner. They both mutter thanks and climb into the car, both of them in the back seat, as the driver puts their suitcases in the boot.

Somehow, this is worse. Being in a confined space, the sides of the bodies barely inches apart, it feels suffocating. Shane feels the electricity coming off of his skin in waves, on edge and restless, like there’s a magnet trying to pull him closer to Ryan. Shane feels somewhere close to wired, like every sense is in overdrive. He’s sure Ryan must feel it too.

Against his will, Shane feels his body tense up. It feels like he’s holding his breath, scared to tiptoe over the metaphorical line they’ve created over the course of the past few hours, waiting to follow Ryan’s lead.

“Right, airport it is,” The taxi driver says, to no one in particular, as he climbs into the front seat and shuts the door behind him. A second later, the engine roars to life and they’re off. “Where you off to?”

To be honest, Shane’s glad when the driver starts a conversation. It’s a small and very welcome reprieve from the deafening silence he’s become accustomed to today. He feels his muscles relax, feels himself breathe.

“California,” Shane says. Whenever he speaks to anyone with an accent different to his own, it feels like his American accent becomes more pronounced and more obvious. 

“Ah, sunny there, innit? Us Brits would kill for a bit of sun.” He replies, pulling onto the motorway and quickly picking up speed. Shane’s not really sure what to say, so he just hums in agreement. “We get a week of summer a year, if we’re lucky. You from California?”

Shane chats back and forth with the taxi driver, but the whole time the reminder of Ryan beside him niggles at him. He has to fight the urge to look over at him, training his eyes on the landscape out the window beside him. He had been so good at keeping his guard up, keeping Ryan at arm's length, close but not close enough to put things in jeopardy. Now, as the scenery escapes beside him, Ryan's so close but feels further away than ever. He can't help wondering how he let things get so complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you didn't think i'd let them get their happy ending that easy, did you? ;)


	10. if i breathe you, will it kill me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'georgia' by phoebe bridgers. i've been obsessed with her music lately.

For the rest of the taxi ride, Ryan is silent, staring out the window and pretending he’s somewhere else. Shane wonders if Ryan thinks he hasn’t noticed that he’s not said more than ten words all day. But of course, he noticed.

They’re pulling their suitcases out of the trunk, when Ryan’s arm brushes against Shane’s and Ryan jumps away, flinches like he’s been burned.

Part of Shane wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole, maybe that would be less uncomfortable, maybe he would stop feeling like there’s an itch under his skin, too far away to reach, destined to spend forever irritated. 

Part of him wants to reach out. He wants to smooth this over, tell Ryan that Shane could be whatever he wanted, so long as he could stay in his life. He wants to make a thousand promises, putting aside his own feelings in favour of Ryan’s. Shane wants to take his hand, but he’s not even sure if that’s what Ryan wants.

But part of him is angry, too. It takes two to tango and Shane hadn’t been the only one who wanted this. In fact, Ryan was the one who started it. Shane had been perfectly fine wallowing in his own feelings, keeping them hidden forever. 

It was  _ Ryan  _ who’d opened the wound with no thought of the consequences. 

He doesn’t even seem to care that he’d left Shane to bleed out, left him to stitch the wound closed himself.

He doesn’t even want to think about what it’ll be like when they get back to LA. He doesn’t want to think about what he’ll have to say to Steven, the countless apologies.

Shane feels a little sick.

Trying not to look at each other, they join the queue to check in their baggage. And that’s when Shane realises how absurd and ridiculous this whole situation is. They’re  _ grown men  _ and they can’t talk about this? They can’t even look at each other?

But the stubbornness in him digs its heels into the ground, refusing to be the first to address it.

The airport is relatively busy, but Shane has a feeling that’s the case with most places in London. In the big cities, it feels like there’s never a lull, as though there’s no such thing as curfews or sleep schedules, as though half the city is nocturnal. He doesn’t remember a place they’ve been in London that hasn’t been packed full of people, even the latest train rides being pretty full.

As they near the front of the queue, Shane vaguely hears the woman before them arguing with the girl behind the desk. She grabs her son by the arm and storms away, leaving the girl behind the desk alone. He watches her take a deep breath, the fake customer service smile slipping for a moment, before returning as she calls them forward.

Shane hands over his passport and boarding pass, as Ryan does the same.

“Right, security is down to the left and up the stairs, you’re at gate three. Do you need your bag checking?” She says, her tone light but professional, as she hands back the paperwork with a small smile. 

It feels, not for the first time, like Shane is going through a routine, that he’s not fully present, that his head and his body are separate beings. 

Still, he nods and places the bags on the conveyor belt, watches as she weighs it and they’re pulled away behind her.

“You’re all set. Have a nice flight.” She smiles again, wider this time, as she turns her attention to the queue once more. Shane hears her call forward the next passengers as they walk away.

Normally, he loves to relax at the airport and take his time. But right now, he’s glad that things seem to be going quickly. He can’t wait to be in the taxi on the way back to his apartment in LA, this weekend a distant memory, as he tries to figure out what he needs to do to make this right.

* * *

Shane thought they were going to meet the crew at the gate. He thought they were going to have to don fake smiles, pretending everything was okay. He thought they were going to have to fake their usual banter, change the subject if things got a little too close to last night.

But instead, once they buy their snacks and get to the gate, Shane gets a text in the group chat, saying there’s been a mix up with the flight, something about double bookings and that the crew are going to catch the next one.

He tries to stop himself from glancing across at Ryan to gauge his reaction, but does so a second too late, his eyes flitting to him against his will. He watches him hold back a sigh.

Honestly, Shane’s a little relieved. At least now they’ll be left alone to wallow in whatever this is, instead of having to put on an act for the benefit of the crew. 

There’s about half an hour before their flight starts boarding, so they take a seat in the waiting area.

Silence stretches, hanging heavy between them, as Shane’s leg bounces involuntarily. He stares at the giant screen that tells them when they need to board, watching the seconds pass by, like he’s waiting for the screen to change its mind. Maybe if he stares at it hard enough, the minutes will zoom by and it’ll be time to get on the plane.

No such luck.

Beside him, Ryan scrolls through Twitter, a little too fast to actually be reading the posts. He cancels out of the app for a moment, looking across his home screen, before reopening it and continuing to scroll.

Even with the hum of the other passengers around them, the silence is unbearable. It’s suffocating, like all the air has suddenly been sucked out of the atmosphere, like they’re in space without a suit.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Shane blurts and immediately regrets saying anything. He hates the way the words sound, a stark contrast to the self-assured, laid back demeanor he’s used to portraying. The words sound anxious and uncertain and he hates it, even if it’s accurate.

Ryan’s head shoots up, an incredulous look on his face, as though what he’s saying is absolutely  _ ridiculous,  _ as though Shane’s just told him he has two heads growing out of his neck.

“What? Why would I be mad at you?” Ryan says, his eyebrows pinched together. He pauses for a moment and Shane realises the question maybe wasn’t as rhetorical as he thought. There’s a look of hurt and something else Shane can’t name that passes over Ryan’s features. “I’m not mad at you, Shane.”

“I just thought--” He stops short, not entirely sure where the rest of his sentence was going. He sighs and rakes a hand over his face, frustrated. There are so many things he wants to say but he’s not sure how to voice them or where to even start. 

He wants to laugh it off, pretend that he was joking and move on. He wants to turn it into another bit that goes on longer than necessary. That’s what he’d normally do, but this feels different. He can’t bring himself to laugh it off.

But at least they’re speaking now. Sort of.

“Want one?” Ryan asks, as he opens the overpriced packet of Skittles he bought from one of the shops. It feels like an olive branch, a peace offering, a hope that they’ll leave this behind them forever or at least, for now.

“Sure,” Shane says, as he reaches into the packet and grabs a green one, making sure not to grab one of the red ones, which are Ryan’s favourites. “Thanks.”

They talk back and forth until the flight attendant calls their row, and it almost feels normal. It almost doesn’t feel like the knife is twisting with every laugh or every joke, like they didn’t skirt so close to  _ something more  _ that they couldn’t come back from it.

It almost feels like they didn’t fuck everything up.  _ Almost _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a step in the right direction? maybe?
> 
> thank you sm for reading and for all the support, especially over the last few chapters. you guys are the best. lots of love. <3


	11. i don't wanna be alone anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "demi moore" by phoebe bridgers.

Shane had forgotten how much he loved flying. The Unsolved trips were few and far between now, and they were too busy with Watcher to travel much these days. 

He’d missed the little things, like the way his stomach flipped when the plane accelerated, picking up speed for take off. Or the way the city around them that had once felt so big became tiny and less intimidating, fading into the background as the plane soared above it. 

He’d even missed the cramped nature of economy, the way his long legs would have to be squeezed in the tiny gap between his seat and the tray table. 

They’d been flying for a few hours now, accustomed to the vibration of the engines keeping them in the clouds, used to the additional pressure that felt like it was pushing them into their seats. 

Shane scrolls through the films, as Ryan takes one of Shane’s headphones and puts it in his ear. 

He settles on a comedy, something he’d heard of, he briefly remembers it being advertised but it was something he’d never intended to see, something that would hopefully lighten the mood. 

Since getting on the plane, things are still quiet. It’s not awkward or brooding, there’s no cold shoulders. Instead, it feels like they can’t quite get back to their old rhythm, like something has been changed in their dynamic that can’t be reversed. 

Still, they’re both trying. But it still feels forced, not as natural as it was a few days ago. 

It feels like they’re second guessing every word they speak, treading a little too carefully to try and avoid the elephant in the room. 

Shane remembers the feeling that they were edging towards a precipice. He remembers hoping that there’d be a safety net underneath him, to catch him as he took the leap.

But now, it feels like he’s falling, his stomach churning as he accepts his fate. He watches the world pass by, falling too fast to grab onto anything and save himself. When he looks down, the ground is edging towards him but the impact never comes. He can’t stop falling. 

It was always inevitable. But he wishes it hadn’t been. 

The opening titles flash across the screen, a corny pop song playing in the background. They both have to actively stop themselves from rolling their eyes. 

Shane’s eyes bore into the screen, watching the film but not really. He’s not sure he could recall a single thing that happened, as he spends the runtime in his head. His thoughts are too loud, much louder than his headphones could ever be. They’re overpowering, unavoidable.

After about half an hour of spiralling, he decides what’s done is done. He can’t change anything and even if he could, he’s not sure he would do anything differently. And yeah, maybe they should’ve talked about it at the time, maybe he should’ve checked that Ryan wasn’t just freaking out, but he couldn’t have possibly known that this was going to be the outcome.

He hates the person this whole thing has turned him into. He used to be chill, used to be so laid back. He used to be slow to anger, but now it feels like he’s on the verge of being overwhelmed most of the time. 

It’s like he’d been at sea, swimming around absentmindedly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. But suddenly he’s forgetting how to swim, something he’s known how to do his whole life, as a wave approaches and threatens to wipe him out. 

It’s only been a day and he’s already sick of the constant cycle of emotions; guilt, anger and sadness interchanging. He pushes the emotions down, telling himself that everything’s fine, that things aren’t beyond repair, that they can go back to how they were, that it’ll just take time.

Shane feels a weight on his shoulder.

Carefully, he glances across to see Ryan’s head leaning on him, his eyes closed as he sleeps, his breathing even. Shane feels a little smile tug at his lips.

It’ll take time but they’ll be okay. He hopes.

* * *

Shane falls asleep somewhere between the third act and the end credits, and somehow stays that way until the plane is preparing for landing. That’s usually the case with Unsolved trips, both of them so sleep deprived from the weekend without real sleep that they drift off on the flight home. But even so, they both slept for the remaining six hours, so they must’ve both needed it.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to put your tray table up and open your window.” The flight attendant says, nudging him awake gently. Shane blinks open his eyes, nodding as he follows her instructions. 

Still, he’s careful not to move too abruptly and wake Ryan up, who’s still sleeping, his body turned a little to face Shane as his head rests on his shoulder. A warm feeling floods into Shane’s chest at the sight.

“Ry,” Shane whispers, his voice barely a hush. “Ryan,” He repeats, a little louder this time. Ryan’s eyes scrunch closed and he presses his face into Shane’s shoulder, edging a little closer. Something in Shane’s heart pangs, it’s all a little too much and not enough at once, a reminder. “We’re landing.” 

That seems to snap Ryan out of it and he pulls back quickly, sitting up and snapping his eyes open. He looks down, muttering something that sounds like an apology. Shane wants to say it’s okay, that it doesn’t matter, but he’s saved from having to reply as the speakers boom.

The plane circles round, the clouds parting as the California skyline comes into view. From up here, it looks prettier than it ever does up close, the imperfections of every building invisible. The sunlight paints shadows across the sidewalk, each person that passes by looking no bigger than an ant.

“Flight crew, prepare for descent.” 

* * *

“What carousel is it?” Shane asks, turning off airplane mode and putting his phone into his back pocket. He glances around the terminal, looking for the screen that tells everyone where their bags have ended up. 

In here, it feels like they’re apart from the world, in a separate bubble. There’s no windows, no light being let in from the outside world. If he spends too long in there, Shane’s certain he wouldn’t know what time it was or even what day it was, if it wasn’t for the clocks on the screens. It doesn’t feel like real life.

“Two,” Ryan says, spotting the screen before Shane. They walk beside one another towards the baggage claim and Shane has the urge to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

By the time they get there, there are a few suitcases already going around the conveyor belt, but none that look familiar. Shane gets a feeling of deja vu, remembers fighting off sleep and watching Ryan collect their suitcases. He remembers how paralysed he’d been, trying too hard to keep his feelings under wraps.

It’s almost ridiculous how much has changed over the past few days. It makes him feel a little sad to see all his worst fears confirmed. It hurts to know that all the times he worried that stepping over the line from friends to something more would ruin this, that he was right.

Shane sighs, watching a father effortlessly pull two pink suitcases off of the conveyor.

They’re on the home stretch now. He has no idea what Ryan’s thinking. But Shane knows that if he can just get through the next hour without fucking things up even further, that he can be back in his apartment with Obi, pretending nothing ever happened.

That is, until they film Watcher Weekly tomorrow.

Fuck, Shane had almost forgotten.

Another wave of suitcases are coming out of the curtains, when Shane spots one with the Watcher patch on it. He walks forward and picks it up off of the conveyor belt, not realising until he picked it up just how heavy it was.

“Told you, next time, we need to pack lighter.” Ryan quips, trying to suppress a smile as Shane struggles to put the suitcase down. 

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Bergara.” Shane jokes back, only a little breathless as Ryan lets out a chuckle. No matter how hard he tries, Shane can’t get a read on Ryan. It’s moments like these that he can’t tell whether things are back to normal, whether this weirdness between them is all in his head. 

He brushes it off. 

“You’d think after years of this, we’d have figured out how to travel lightly.” Shane says, as he wheels the suitcase out of the way of the carousel, close enough that they can still spot the other bags going around.

“It’s your fault, all the extra fabric for your long ass legs weighs a ton.” Ryan says, a playful tone to his words. Feigning disbelief, Shane shakes his head.

“No way, it’s definitely all your sneakers. We’re only leaving LA for a weekend Ryan, you don’t need to bring four pairs.” Ryan lets out a surprised bark of laughter at Shane’s words, shaking his head. The smile lingers on his lips for a moment, his eyes searching Shane’s face, his expression something that Shane can’t discern.

There’s a beat before he looks away, his cheeks a little pinker and his eyes a little sadder. Ryan sees their other suitcase and strides forward to pick it up.

* * *

The Uber Shane ordered is waiting for them outside by the time they get through all the exit procedures. They lift their bags into the trunk, before climbing into the back seat. 

It’s the opposite of London, their driver silent for most of the drive, apart from asking if they want the radio on or off. Neither of them make any effort to start a conversation, sensing that the driver wants to be left alone.

It feels like a lifetime before they reach Shane’s apartment, the tiredness hitting him out of nowhere. Even though he’d slept for a few hours on the plane, it didn’t feel refreshing, more fitful and disturbed, never being able to fully settle into sleep.

When he looks across at Ryan, he catches him yawning, the exhaustion weighing on his shoulders and making him slouch a little. As if sensing Shane’s eyes on him, Ryan looks back at him, smiling a little.

The car pulls to a stop outside of Shane’s apartment, the engine still running and the indicator blinking.

But Ryan’s still looking at him. Shane wants to ask him to come up, to ask if they can talk about this and sort it out, to ask if he wants a coffee. 

But instead, he smiles back and gets out of the car.

“Thanks,” He says to the driver, leaning back into the car. “See you tomorrow.” He says, before he closes the door behind him. 

He pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and heads into his apartment, refusing to look back at the car as it drives away. 

He counts the steps up to his door, one, two, three, and hopes he wakes up tomorrow, the whole weekend nothing but an overly vivid daydream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry, things will start getting better over the next few chapters. <3


	12. i buried a hatchet, it's coming up lavender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'smoke signals' by phoebe bridgers.

The next morning, Shane wakes to a blaring alarm and a ginger cat rubbing on his chest. 

“Hey, are you hungry?” Shane says, as he rubs Obi’s head, the cat purring away happily as he sits on his stomach. He reaches over and grabs his phone, checking the time as he turns off the alarm. 

There’s over an hour until they start filming, which is normally more than enough time for Shane to grab breakfast, get dressed and be on his way to the office. But his body is planted in bed, a battle to get up.

He could call in sick and say he had food poisoning from something over the weekend. He knows they’d both let him off, even if neither of them believed him. But still, Ryan would know something was up. And odds are, Steven would sense it too.

Shane gets out of bed and misses the days where things were simpler, when he was seen as the chilled out one, Obi following him as he wanders to the kitchen.

He’s eating his bowl of cereal on the couch when his phone buzzes in his lap. It’s a text in the trio’s group chat from Steven, followed by a few emojis.

_ Hope you two aren’t too jet lagged!  _

He lets out a huff of air, not quite enough to be a laugh and sends back a text with an obscene amount of emojis after it, hoping they understand that he’s being ironic and doesn’t actually use that many emojis.

_ I’m always tired anyway, it’s no different  _

Turning on the television, Shane locks his phone, shoving another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. There’s some woman on the screen, dressed a little too nicely for daytime TV, talking about how her daughter is a menace and needs to be helped. 

_ Thats why i live off coffee big guy, but you’d have to drink double because of the proportions  _

His phone lights up with a text reply from Ryan. Shane rolls his eyes in a fond manner because  _ of course _ , Ryan would make this about his height somehow. 

_ I’ll have you know my body is perfectly proportionate _

_ Tell that to your head i dont think it got the message ;) _

_ Just because one espresso is too much for your tiny body to handle, weak sauce _

As he presses send, he knows it’s not his best work, isn’t quite sure what he’s even trying to say, but it’s too early for him to think of anything better. He doesn’t even really know what they’re talking about anymore. 

There’s radio silence for a moment, before the reply comes through, this time from Steven.

_ Can you two flirt on your private messages because you’re crashing my phone  _

Shane immediately feels his whole body tense up. Cereal abandoned beside him, his thumbs hover over the keyboard, all words flying out of his head as his mind goes blank. 

Judging from the silence on the other end, Shane would guess Ryan’s feeling the same way.

But Steven doesn’t seem to notice, probably thinking they’ve both just redirected their messages out of the group chat.

_ Thanks see you guys later _

Locking his phone again, Shane picks up his half-eaten bowl of cereal and goes to get dressed, trying not to think too hard.

Why had it felt like they’d been caught red-handed? Nothing had changed from how they acted last week, so why did it feel like they’d been doing something they shouldn’t have? Shane feels like his head is about to fall off of his shoulders from the speed his thoughts whir through his mind.

He takes a deep breath and tries to think about anything else. He thinks about what he’s going to make for dinner that night, what the segment is for Watcher Weekly, which films he’s going to watch this week, thinks about which show is next in the cycle for Watcher.

It feels like he’s just passing time, waiting impatiently until it’s time to leave for the office. But the waiting becomes too much and he ends up leaving ten minutes early.

* * *

“Shane!” Steven says, his focus shifting from the tripod he’s helping set up to Shane with a smile. Even though it’s only been a few days, it feels like an eternity since he’s stepped foot in the Watcher office. He’d got used to being here everyday that even a three day vacation felt too long.

“Hey, what still needs setting up?” Shane smiles, taking off his coat and laying it over the back of a chair in the corner of the room, out of frame. Steven fills him in on what still needs doing and Shane gets to work.

A few minutes pass before Ryan walks in, looking a little dishevelled with a backpack slung over one shoulder. His hair is sticking up in different directions, like he’s been pulled through a wind tunnel. He drops his backpack by the wall and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Hey Ryan!” Steven says, just as enthusiastic the second time, always happy to see everyone. His grin is bright and warm, but Ryan’s not looking. 

Instead, he’s looking right back at Shane.

There’s a moment where it feels like everything stops, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation. Shane thinks he can hear his heartbeat in his head, hear his blood rushing through his veins. 

He smiles at Ryan and Ryan smiles back, before averting his attention to Steven.

“Hey Steven,” Ryan says, the smile on his lips wider as he asks Steven how he’s doing and how things have been over the weekend. The conversation feels far away, muted as though Shane’s underwater, as he watches on.

He shakes his head and tries to focus on helping set up.

* * *

By the end of filming, Shane was feeling relieved. He thought they’d done a pretty good job at making things seem normal, that he’d cracked enough jokes to fill the gaps that maybe weren’t so normal. He knew the viewers wouldn’t notice the difference and that the editing would pick up the slack.

And he thought they’d fooled Steven too, until he pulls him aside at the end of the shoot.

“What’s going on with Ryan today? Did something happen?” Steven asks, his eyebrows pinching together with concern. 

“What do you mean?” Shane says, only half lying. He’d thought Ryan had seemed pretty normal, as engaged and funny as he usually was.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m reading too much into it but he just seems sad? Can you, maybe, talk to him? I think he’s more likely to talk to you.” Steven says, his tone hushed as the staff pass by them. Without thinking about it, Shane nods, unsure of whether or not he’ll be able to keep his promise.

Steven says thanks, flashes him another smile and walks towards the exit, following the staff.

Shane sees Ryan in the far corner, packing things back into his backpack and it’s then that he sees exactly what Steven was talking about. He sees the way Ryan sighs like there’s an extra weight on his shoulders. He sees the way his gaze seems a little further away, a bit more distant than usual, more distracted.

It hurts.

He opens his mouth and closes it again, unsure of what to say. There’s so much he’s not said that it’s hard keeping track of where to start, it’s hard to hold a normal conversation with all the unspoken thoughts pushing their way to the forefront.

“Hey, Ry.” He says, settling for casual, something that’s never done him wrong. Ryan looks up at him, his fingers faltering on the zip of his backpack. “Do you wanna come over tonight?” He continues, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he even realises they’re on his tongue.

Straight away, he knows he’s been too vague. He should’ve said they needed to talk, should’ve asked if he wanted to come over to watch a movie. He doesn’t want Ryan to get the wrong idea.

“Movie night?” He clarifies, aiming for nonchalance even though his heart is pounding out of his chest. 

For a moment, he thinks Ryan is going to say no. God, what if he says no? He’s looking at him like he’s somewhere in between strange and fascinating, surprised by the offer. It’s like he’s still trying to figure out where Shane’s going with this, even when he replies.

“Sure. Is eight okay?” Ryan says, sounding nothing short of baffled. Shane thinks his minute of surprise courage and confidence has ran out, the words on his tongue feeling heavier than they did before. So, he just nods. “Great, see you then.”

And just like that, Ryan slings his backpack over his shoulder and walks out, leaving Shane with a thousand questions and somehow, even fewer answers than before.


	13. i feel something when i see you now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'icu' by phoebe bridgers.

The hours pass slow, slower than Shane’s ever felt them, as he tries to waste the hours until movie night with Ryan. He spends the time in the office, planning, editing, writing emails, doing admin, the usual things. 

Normally, the days in the office pass quickly, flying by as he scurries to get everything done in an impossibly short amount of time. But today, it feels like the day drags its feet, so slowly that he wonders if the clock by his desk is broken, only to realise it’s the second time in five minutes that he’s checked it.

After an eternity, he sees the clock hit six thirty and decides to call it a day, getting an Uber home.

During the car ride home, Shane thinks this might be the first time he’s felt nervous heading to his own apartment. He doesn’t know what to expect tonight, hasn’t even thought about what he’s going to say. He wonders whether they’ll both just choose to ignore the obvious, whether they’ll just watch a movie and hope things go back to normal. 

Surely, they’ll have to talk about it. Shane knows that leaving something like this to fester will do nothing but deteriorate their friendship even more. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say or how he’s going to do so, but Shane knows that before Ryan leaves tonight, he needs to get them both on the same page.

The wind is almost knocked out of him, the air pulled from his lungs by the realisation that Shane would do anything to be in Ryan’s life. He doesn’t care how, will adhere to any and all conditions Ryan might have. It occurs to him now that he’ll take whatever Ryan’s willing to give him, whatever he can get, as long as he doesn’t lose him.

He knows he’d run to the ends of the Earth until his feet bled, until the soles wore down to the bone, if it would make Ryan happy. He’s certain he’d jump in front of a bullet, take a knife to the gut and bleed out in the middle of the street, if it meant Ryan would be okay. 

Without a second thought, without any reservations, he’d do anything and everything for Ryan. 

Once the car pulls onto the curb, Shane thanks the driver and gets out, closing the door behind him and being careful not to slam it. 

When he steps inside his apartment, Obi is already waiting for him, brushing up against his legs as he walks. Shane reaches down and rubs his head. He wonders if Obi can sense his nerves, his anticipation, or if he’s completely oblivious and just happy to see him.

He checks the time on his phone and sees he’s got just over an hour until Ryan gets here. Taking a deep breath, Shane heads for the kitchen and makes a sandwich, not knowing what he’s doing for dinner that night. 

Normally, they order pizza or Postmates or eat enough popcorn that they don’t feel like eating anything else, but Shane’s pretty sure tonight’s not going to be a normal movie night.

He shuffles his Spotify, scrolls through all of his social medias, flicks through the channels on his television, until he’s left with nothing to do but wander around his apartment, tidying up a little and looking for something to do. It quickly becomes clear that time passing slow isn’t exclusive to the office.

Out the window, he notices the rain starting to fall, dripping down his windows, different droplets racing their way to the window pane. He muses to himself that California weather can be so unpredictable, this morning it had been unbearably warm, akin to that of the hottest days of Summer. But now, the weather looks more like Autumn, changing within the hour. 

He hopes the rainfall isn’t an indicator of how well the night is going to go.

At seven, he gets a text from Ryan.

_ Hey, sorry but can i come over now? Is that ok _

Part of him had thought Ryan was going to cancel, expected the text to be a ‘sorry, i’m sick’ or something. He lets out a breath, glad that he doesn’t have to spend the next hour pacing, but a little confused at the change of time.

_ Sure  _

_ Good because i’m outside _

Shane curses under his breath, feeling like he’s been caught unprepared. But then he remembers, this isn’t a test he can fail, this isn’t something scary and looming, like a dentist appointment moved forward a week.

This is Ryan.

He rushes to the door, pushing Obi back so he doesn’t sneak out between his legs. When he opens it, there’s Ryan, looking a little drenched and about as apprehensive as Shane feels. It seems like he wasn’t the only one counting down the minutes until eight o’clock.

Without a word, Shane steps to the side and lets him in. Ryan takes off his coat and places it over a nearby chair like it’s second nature. For a moment, Shane had forgotten how familiar this was, how this apartment was like Ryan’s second home. He feels a pang go through his chest.

“Do you want a towel?” Shane asks, his tone amused as Ryan shakes his head like a dog, trying to dry his hair. 

“Please,” Ryan says and Shane lets out a chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. He grabs a towel from the bathroom and when he comes back, he finds Ryan crouched down, rubbing a spot behind Obi’s ear. Shane falters for a moment, before holding out the towel to him, as Ryan stands up. “Thanks.”

The silence that follows is awkward, it stretches on for an impossibly long time and Shane can’t help but feel vulnerable. It feels like they don’t know each other, like they don’t know what they’re supposed to say, like they’re missing the cues that usually come so easily. 

“We—“

“Can—“

They both speak at the same time, cutting themselves off after the first word, so that the other can finish, but neither of them do.

“You first,” Ryan says, his voice a hush, each breath echoing in the apartment. Shane debates saying ‘no, you’ but then decides it’d be childish. Besides, it  _ is  _ his turn to go out on a limb.

“We need to talk,” Shane says, meeting Ryan’s eyes. “Things have been weird.”

“Yeah, they have, haven’t they?” Ryan says and lets out a humourless laugh, it sounds almost pained. Shane flashes him a sad smile, before leading him to the living room. 

To be honest, he hadn’t expected them to jump straight into The Talk. He thought that maybe they’d watch one film, calm the nerves a little and try and get back to normal. Then, he thought they’d explain and sort things out. But he’s not complaining, he’s glad to get this out of the way early.

Shane knows this will probably be a long conversation, one that’ll probably be painful for Shane, filled with misunderstandings and inevitably, rejection. He hopes Ryan will explain, that he’ll let him down gently. He hopes he’ll be understanding when Shane says he needs to pull back for a few weeks, get his feelings in check. 

“I’m sorry,” Shane says, as they sit on the couch, their knees almost touching as they face each other. 

“You’re, you’re  _ sorry _ ?” Ryan stutters, his eyebrows raising in confusion. “Why?” 

Shane takes a deep breath. No more misunderstandings. This is what they should have done the first time around, he should’ve laid things out clearly so that there was no room for misinterpretation. Then, nobody would have got the wrong idea, nobody would’ve got hurt. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this earlier. I know it was just a London thing for you but, erm,” He pauses. He’s not used to bearing his feelings like this, handing Ryan his heart on a silver platter. 

Every alarm that could possibly go off is sounding in his head, telling him to go back, to abort the mission. 

“I know it was just a hook-up. That’s fine, I get it, you were just riled up from the location but it’s more for me.” He realises he’s rambling on and looks away from Ryan, takes another deep breath. It feels like his lungs can’t get air quick enough. When he looks back at Ryan, his mouth is parted in shock and he’s blinking a little too quickly. 

“God, this is embarrassing.” He mumbles, more just to fill the silence than anything. “It’s okay, I just needed to tell you because I felt like it was unfair for you not to know and--”

“Shane,”

“I’ll be over it in a few weeks but I just need a little space until then if that’s--”

“ _ Shane, _ ” Ryan repeats, his voice more insistent this time. Shane shuts up. When he speaks again, his voice is careful, the words chosen and restrained. “I need you to be super clear with me. What do you mean by more?”

“I,” Shane starts, caught a little off guard. Of all the things he’d been expecting Ryan to say, that hadn’t been one of them. It feels weird to lay himself bare, to be so uncharacteristically emotional, but if Ryan needs him to state the obvious, he’ll do it. “I love you. I think I have for a while.”

Shane watches Ryan carefully, watches as he lets out a heavy exhale, like he’s been punched in the stomach and the air has been forced out of him. He watches him swallow, a tiny smile on his lips, his eyebrows sad.

A few seconds pass and Shane feels like he’s floundering in uncertain waters. But his heartbeat is steady, he’d been expecting this. He’d known Ryan hadn’t felt the same way and it hurt, but he wasn’t caught out. He isn’t drowning.

He counts to twenty in his head, giving Ryan time to process the bombshell he’s just dropped at his feet. Shane thought he’d been painfully obvious, dropping hints left, right and centre. But judging from Ryan’s reaction, he’d been just as oblivious to these feelings as Shane had been.

But Ryan says nothing, just staring at Shane with his mouth still open in shock. His eyes look a little wet, unshed tears pushing to the forefront and threatening to spill over. It’s like his brain has shut down. Shane’s heart drops to his feet.

“Ryan, are you okay?” He asks, his voice no more than a whisper. Ryan looks away suddenly, coming to his senses and standing up. His expression closes off, becoming unreadable again and Shane can’t make himself move from where he sits on the sofa.

“I need to go for, for a walk,” Ryan stutters, looking around the room as though he’s just now realised where he is. Shane knows him well enough to know that he’s freaking out. 

He looks at Shane and his expression softens. 

“I’ll be back, I promise. Then we can talk, I just need a minute.” Ryan says and he speaks like he’s asking permission, like he won’t go if Shane doesn’t want him to. Shane nods.

“Okay,” Shane whispers, watches as Ryan puts on his coat and leaves, closing the door behind him.

The silence he leaves behind is deafening. Shane wonders if he’s finally done it, finally pushed them over the edge and past the point of fixing. 

He takes a deep breath and goes to the kitchen to pour himself a drink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this just my excuse to write a ryan-centric chapter next? maybe.
> 
> also, please don't be mad at me i will fix this lolol


	14. you come home a bird in your teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'i know the end' by phoebe bridgers.

When he steps out of the apartment building, the rain is still falling, more of a drizzle than a storm now. But still, he feels the droplets beat down on his back as he walks, making him wish he’d worn something with a hood.

He needed to clear his head. To get his thoughts in order. To process.

But he can’t stop thinking about Shane’s face, the pull on his eyebrows when Ryan said he had to leave. Not to mention that Shane had told him _he_ _loved him._ And Ryan had just up and left, like a coward running away from a fight they’d been training for for years. 

It feels like someone has reached inside his chest and grabbed his heart, squeezing it and crushing it in their grasp.

He walks to the end of the street and takes a left turn, no destination in mind and not really sure where he’s going. 

When he’d first started working at Buzzfeed, Ryan had felt drawn to Shane. He spent most days just wanting to make him laugh, wanting to see him smile and be the reason behind it. Back then, he’d chalked it up to a stupid little crush and been done with it. 

He had long since accepted the fact that it was never going to happen, that it’d be another unrequited thing and he’d be over it in a few months. In Ryan’s mind, Shane would never be into him. Then, he’d got with Sara, and Ryan had thought to himself ‘there, see, I was right’.

He’d closed that chapter, reopened it only during drunk text chains with Steven and got on with his job. 

But something had shifted for both of them over the weekend, Ryan had felt it. They’d skirted a little too close to what ‘more’ would feel like. Waking up in each other’s arms, holding hands, it had all been a little too close, a glimpse of what they could be. 

And Ryan had stepped over the line first. He hadn’t planned to kiss Shane. But it was the way they’d been circling each other all weekend, edging closer together. It was the way Shane was so concerned just because Ryan seemed stressed, wanting to do anything to help, to talk through whatever was plaguing him.

It was the way Shane looked at him like he had personally hung all of his favourite constellations up in the night sky. 

Ryan had thought he was over it, thought he’d moved on from it years ago, but in that moment, he had had to kiss him. In that moment, that was all he’d wanted to do. He’d been convinced he was over it, but even now, he can still feel it thrumming under his skin, like it’s written into his DNA, into his coding. 

Before then, he had been sure it was just an old crush coming back. But that night, he put a name to it. He added it all up in his head, did the math. He knows he would do anything for Shane, that nothing makes him feel the way he does when he makes Shane laugh, when they joke back and forth. Ryan swore to himself he'd tell him in the morning.

And the next morning, he'd chickened out. He couldn't deal with it, too scared that Shane didn't feel the same way, too scared that they were going to make a mess of things, too scared that this was just a one-time thing and he hadn't got the message. So, he promised he'd be the first to leave, that he wouldn't give Shane the chance to reject him.

But now, he feels like a dick. Shane _had_ been feeling the same way, if they'd just talked about it like the mature, reasonable adults that they're supposed to be, everything would be fine.

Ryan's thoughts race at a mile a minute, he feels his heart beating faster, his chest rising and falling too quickly. He feels himself freaking out. What are they doing? What is he doing? 

In London, it had terrified him just how much he felt, how _much_ he loved Shane. He didn't think it was possible to feel this much, and the extent of it scared him. He had thought he was done for, hopeless. He remembers the drive back to the hotel, in his head, paralysed by these old feelings that he thought he’d got under control, as they cropped back up and shoved their way to the front of his brain.

The way his stomach flips when their eyes meet, the way he can’t help but laugh at all Shane’s stupid jokes, the way they can spend hours and hours together and never get sick of one another, never run out of things to talk about.

Ryan loves him. It’s the only thing he’s ever been certain of. Even when he didn't know a thing, he'd known that he loves Shane. 

He’s still terrified of ruining this friendship, ruining this company they’ve built together, but for some reason, he still wants to take the leap. He wants to go back to the apartment and say everything he’s been holding inside, wipe that horrible frown off of Shane’s face, vow to never let it happen again. Fuck the rest of it. If it breaks down, they'll cross that bridge when they come to it. But right now, all that matters to Ryan, the only thing he can think about is telling Shane how he feels.

Ryan turns around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ryan freaking out over something he never thought would happen because it actually happened? mood.


	15. the future's unwritten, the past is a corridor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title from 'smoke signals' by phoebe bridgers.

Shane hears a knock at the door. He puts his drink down on a coaster on the coffee table, it’s not even half finished. 

A little voice inside of him had been sure that Ryan wasn’t coming back, that he’d scared him away. But when he opens the door, Ryan stands before him, a little out of breath and soaked to the bone.

Shane holds his breath. Steps to the side and lets him in for the second time.

“Shane, I thought--” Ryan says but his voice sounds strained, shaky. He clears his throat. “I thought it was just a hook-up for  _ you. _ ” Ryan says, the words coming out in one breath, like they’ve been pulled out of him, and it feels like the puzzle is laying out in front of Shane, he can see all the pieces but can’t quite put them together.

“Gonna need you to be crystal clear too, Ry.” Shane says, refusing to break eye contact. He’s staring over the edge of a cliff again, waiting to find out if he’s jumping alone. 

“Honestly? I was freaking out. I was sure you didn’t feel the same way. And I know you’d probably have been cool about it, but things never would’ve been the same. I mean, look at the last few days.” Ryan explains, making a hand gesture between the two of them. 

A single drop of water falls from his hairline and down his face. He doesn’t even seem to notice. 

“The whole trip, things felt different and I got scared. I don’t wanna fuck this up, I’d never forgive myself if I screwed up Watcher, or if I screwed up  _ this.” _

“I know.” Shane says, feeling like Ryan’s words echo all the doubts he’d been having in his own mind. 

“And it feels like this is what we’ve been heading towards? Am I crazy?” Ryan says, a nervous laugh following his words. 

“No, I know what you mean,” Shane says, and he does. It does feel like this was inevitable, that this was the only conclusion, that they were always going to end up here. 

This time, Shane’s the one to let out a humourless chuckle, but the noise is wet and a little choked. He looks down at the floor, both of them still standing by the door. 

“Shane,” Ryan says, wanting Shane to look at him. He does, their eyes meet and Ryan smiles. “I love you, too. I--” 

His words are cut off as Shane’s lips press against his own. It feels like coming home, so familiar but somehow brand new all at once, the fear and uncertainty that was there before replaced by hope. 

The words feel like a weight being lifted off of both of their shoulders, a confession years in the making. 

Pulling him closer, Shane wraps an arm around Ryan’s waist, the other hand cupping his cheek. It takes Ryan a second to catch up, both hands in Shane’s hair, tugging a little as he runs his fingers through it. 

The kiss isn’t urgent like the first time, instead it’s slow and loving, like they’ve got all the time in the world. 

Shane never wants to let go. He wants to live in this moment forever, just him and Ryan in his apartment until the day the world dies. He thinks that even in his final moments, this is how he’d want to spend them. 

Just before the meteor hits, he’d want to hold Ryan’s hand.

“Meh,” Is all Shane says when they pull away, accentuating his words with a shrug. His words hold no weight though, since he’s still a little breathless and dazed, grinning ear to ear. He watches as Ryan’s mouth falls open, as he slaps him on the arm.

“You’re a dick _ ,”  _ Ryan says, but his grin mirrors the one on Shane’s face. There’s a beat, a pause as Shane just looks into his eyes, taking the moment in. Part of him can’t believe this is actually happening, so he’s trying to memorise every little thing about this second. 

He thinks back through the years, the two of them dancing around each other, circling for years but never sticking the landing. 

He remembers the way he’d curse himself for letting too much slip, for stepping a little too close or pushing the boundaries a little too much. 

He remembers Steven and the crew joking around, teasing them for how close they were. He remembers how Ryan would always jump to defend it, a little too fast, saying they were just best friends, that best friends were  _ allowed  _ to be this close. He remembers the pang in his chest.

He remembers the way Ryan would get closer when they were drunk, like alcohol knocked down all the walls he built up, and the way he’d be so withdrawn and distant for the week that followed.

It all makes sense now.

“You’re telling me we could have been doing this the whole time?” Shane jokes.

“We’re  _ idiots.”  _ Ryan says, laughing as he presses his forehead against Shane’s. Shane can’t help it, he laughs too, a feeling of warmth blooming in his chest. 

And he can’t help it when he leans back in, covering Ryan’s smile with his own. What was meant to be a short kiss turns into something more, something deeper, dragging its feet to the finish line.

The memory of the realisation in Camden hits him out of nowhere, that same feeling he felt that day coming back tenfold. He remembers thinking he was fucked, that he was going to ruin everything, ruin them.

And now, Ryan’s lips on his, as his fingertips dance around the nape of Shane’s neck, as Ryan kisses him like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do, he thinks the same thing. 

He’s fucked, but now, it’s in a completely different way. He’s no longer scared of ruining their friendship. Now, he knows he’s so far gone, that he’d do anything for just one smile from Ryan, just for one glance.

He’s  _ fucked _ . He knows he is but somehow, holding Ryan so close, he can't find it in himself to care. Somehow, it’s the greatest thing ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't the final chapter but this feels like a good place to say this. thank you so much for sticking with this lil fic of mine, you're all so lovely and kind and each of your comments truly made my day. starting this, i had no confidence in my writing and started this as an escape or an excuse to write something for the fandom i've grown to love so much. now, after all your lovely, lovely comments, i'm so much more confident in my writing. so thank you so much for that, and thank you for even reading this to begin with, because i genuinely didn't think anyone would.
> 
> anyway, i think the next chapter will be the last, probably. <3


	16. and here, everyone knows you're the way to my heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'punisher' by phoebe bridgers.

They spend the rest of the night watching films on the sofa, until the sun has long since set and they can barely keep their eyes open. Neither of them want to rush things, knowing they have all the time in the world now. 

“It's getting late, I better get going,” Ryan says, pressing a kiss into Shane’s neck and untangling himself. He goes through the motions, rubbing his eyes and standing up. He goes to grab his coat from the back of the couch, but he hesitates, and Shane doesn’t miss it. It’s like he’s hoping Shane will stop him.

Just as Ryan’s turning away, Shane takes the opportunity to grab his wrist and stop him in his tracks.

“Stay?” Shane says, looking up at Ryan. There’s no uncertainty now though, they both know Ryan’s not going anywhere. 

For a moment, he just looks into Shane’s eyes, just letting the seconds pass, before he glances down at where Shane’s fingers are wrapped around his wrist and his lips pull up into a small smile. 

“Sure,” He says, his voice hushed as their eyes meet, smiling at one another. “It is getting late though and I  _ am _ tired.” 

“You’re not the only one,” Shane says, gesturing to Obi, who’d been asleep through the entirety of the last film at least. As if sensing their eyes on him, Obi stretches his paws out and sighs, content and peaceful. 

Ryan lets out a huff of laughter, before pulling Shane to his feet. Ever the graceful one, Shane stumbles a little and when he stands, he realises just how close they are. He can feel Ryan’s chest move against his body as he breathes, can feel their feet touching.

For a second, Shane forgets that this is okay now. Only after a second does he realise that he no longer has to hold his breath when they accidentally find themselves this close, guarding his thoughts in case Ryan can miraculously read minds. 

He bends down and plants a kiss on Ryan’s lips, gentle and slow, because it’s something he’s just allowed to do now. Shane’s not sure he’ll ever get bored of that. 

“Come on, big guy,” Ryan says, after kissing Shane once more for good measure. “Race ya.” He says, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he takes off running to the other side of the apartment. 

And if Shane lets him win, nobody has to know.

“Hey, you caught me off guard, I didn’t even get to warm up!” Shane says, pretending to be offended, even though he’s smiling wide. “Ref, back me up here!” He continues, waving his arms at Obi, who followed them into the bedroom. 

“Nope, gotta account for those long ass legs somehow!” Ryan smiles, shaking his head as he sits down on the end of the bed. 

Somehow, in the bedroom, the energy between them feels different. It’s like every moment is charged and intentional. Shane’s skin feels tingly, like his skeleton is about to crawl out from under his skin, out of his body. 

But he’s not nervous, not anymore. Not when Ryan’s looking at him like that, like he could look at him for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. 

And then, he’s far too distracted to think about anything because Ryan’s pulling his shirt over his head. All of a sudden, every thought flies out of Shane’s head. 

A few seconds pass before Ryan speaks. 

“Shane? Anyone in there?” Ryan says, looking up at him with an amused expression, his eyebrow quirked and  _ oh,  _ he’s doing this on purpose _.  _

“You are a  _ dick _ ,” Shane says, closing his mouth once he realises it’s been slightly open the entire time. As Shane steps closer to him, Ryan lets out a huff of laughter, enjoying this far too much.

Eyes glancing down at Shane’s lips, Ryan edges towards him but just before their lips meet, Shane speaks.

“I thought you were tired?” Shane teases, an amused tone latching onto his words. Ryan smiles back at him.

“Not anymore,” He says, sure of himself for a moment before the uncertainty sets in. “If that’s okay with you?” He asks, pulling away a little.

“More than okay with me,” Shane says, echoing Ryan’s words in the hotel room in London. The full circle moment isn’t lost on him, the realisation of how far they’ve come in such a short space of time, the possibilities that await them in the future making his heart swell. 

Ryan smiles at him, pushing him back onto the bed, but it’s more graceful than the first time. Before Shane can get lost in his own head, Ryan’s lips are on his again and all his thoughts are replaced with  _ Ryan. _

* * *

They tell Steven the next week, deciding to give the new relationship a trial run first before breaking the news, but doing so is a little anticlimactic.

“I kinda already knew,” Steven says with a shrug, looking far less surprised than they both thought he’d be. The shock at his reaction must show on their faces. “What? You guys carpool here every morning and you’ve been flirting  _ constantly  _ since I met you, it’s the worst!”

Neither of them have a response to that, both looking back at Steven with mouths agape. There’s a pause and then Ryan’s cracking up, like this is the funniest thing he’s heard in a long while.

“Thanks for telling me though, I appreciate it.” Steven says, smiling as he pats Shane on the shoulder before walking away. 

To be honest, Shane had expected a bit more of a fight, more concern from Steven, since he was the more business-orientated out of the three of them. He’d been anticipating the ‘have you thought about what will happen with Watcher if you break up?’ interrogation, he’d prepared answers for every question Steven could possibly ask him.

He glances across at Ryan and can’t help laughing with him.

“I can’t believe it, we were both freaking out and this whole time, he  _ knew! _ ” Ryan says in between laughter. 

“Guess we were really  _ that  _ obvious.” Shane chuckles. He shakes his head and slings an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. 

For a moment, he allows himself to appreciate how  _ easy  _ this is, how smooth the transition from friends to something more was, how easy it is to be with Ryan like this.

Waking up just before Ryan, counting his breaths until the alarm goes off and Ryan throws a pillow over his head in protest.

Making two coffees instead of one, leaving a change of clothes at Ryan’s apartment and seeing Ryan’s clothes in the drawers at Shane’s, the extra toothbrush in the bathroom.

It still amazes him how they got here, he never thought they would. In fact, he had resigned himself to hopelessness, accepting the fact that he would pine from afar, unrequited and in secret until the feeling went away, if it ever did.

But now, he can just throw his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, can just pull him close, can just plant a kiss in his hair. It’s something he can just do now. So he does.

“What was that for?” Ryan asks, lips quirked into a smile, as they make their way to their desks, two computers sitting side by side. Smiling back, Shane shakes his head, his arm dropping from Ryan’s shoulders as they take their seats in the office, ready for a long day of planning and outlining and emailing and editing.

“Nothing,” He says. Shane never thought he’d be the type of person to be so loving and so mushy, so nauseating. For as long as he can remember, he’s watched overly affectionate couples with distaste, wondering how anyone could be so affectionate and so disgusting in public without a care. 

But now, he understands.

Shane averts his attention to the computer in front of him and hopes this never ends. He thinks, if he believed in God, he would pray. But he doesn’t, so he just makes a promise to himself that he’ll do everything to stay in this moment forever, to never leave Ryan’s side unless he asks him to.

He’s too lost in thought to notice Ryan’s eyes on him, a small smile on his lips as he walks the same train of thought, as he makes the same promises to himself. 

And when the day is done and they’re walking back to Ryan’s car, joking around like nothing has changed, like nothing has shifted, Shane thinks maybe he does believe in fate. 

Maybe there is some higher power, pulling them towards one another for years until one of them had the guts to make the first move. 

Shane thinks he can’t imagine a universe where this isn’t the outcome. In every alternate reality, every parallel timeline, he imagines them together. He can’t imagine a world where Ryan isn’t by his side.

After all, this always felt inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went back and forth for ages about how to end this but eventually, settled on this. happy endings all around.
> 
> thank you so much for all the support, you guys have made me smile more times than i can count with your comments. 
> 
> thank you, author out.<3


End file.
